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SABBATH  LAMP 


A.S.ISAACS 


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UNDER  THE  SABBATH 

LAMP 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH 

LAMP 


STORIES  OF  OUR  TIME 
FOR  OLD  AND  YOUNG 


BY 

ABRAM  S.  ISAACS 


Philadelphia 

the  Jewish  Publication  Society  of  America 

1919 


Copyright,  1919, 

BY 

Thb  Jewish  publication  Society  op  America 


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To 


FATHER  AND  MOTHER 

In  Grateful  Memory  of  Happy  Y ears 
Under  their  Sabbath  Lamp 
Reverently  Dedicated 


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PREFACE 


In  the  lack  of  what  may  be  termed  home 
literature  for  old  and  young,  to  supply 
which  the  Jewish  Publication  Society  is 
doing  admirable  pioneer  work,  it  has  been 
thought  that  this  collection  of  stories  would 
furnish  its  share  of  entertaining  reading 
to  the  average  Jewish  household.  They 
are  associated  chiefly  with  the  Sabbath  and 
holiday  atmosphere  and  with  certain  prob¬ 
lems  of  Jewish  life  in  its  American  environ¬ 
ment,  which  is  no  more  shifting  to  the  pres¬ 
ent  generation  than  it  appeared  years  ago 
to  those  now  of  mature  age. 

It  may  be  helpful,  then,  to  direct  atten¬ 
tion,  even  in  the  guise  of  unpretentious 
fiction,  to  permanent  elements  in  our  social, 
domestic,  and  religious  life,  which  are 
all-powerful  in  shaping  the  character  of 
Israel  and  preserving  Jewish  ideals. 


7 


PREFACE 


Some  of  the  tales  were  originally  written 
for  a  limited  circle,  but  have  been  wholly 
revised  and  recast  in  their  present  form. 


A.  S.  I. 


New  York  University, 
September,  1915. 


8 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


Introduction  .  1 1 

The  Old  Shofar  .  23 

Born  Again  . 39 

Before  Dawn  .  53 

The  Trendele  .  71 

The  Children’s  Gift  .  90 

The  Happy  Family  .  109 

A  Voice  for  Freedom  .  124 

From  Land  to  Land  .  139 

A  Rabbi’s  Wife  .  157 

How  the  Debt  Was  Paid .  172 

Only  a  Child  .  189 

The  Rabbi’s  Romance  .  205 

Just  from  Jerusalem  .  220 

The  Children’s  Revolt  .  233 

At  Grandmother’s  School  .  246 


9 


INTRODUCTION 


A  thousand  fantasies 

Begin  to  throng  into  ray  memory. 

— Comus. 

For  many  years  it  was  the  pleasant  cus¬ 
tom  of  certain  friends  of  Dr.  Jacobson, 
one  of  the  best-known  physicians  in  a 
prominent  American  city,  to  gather  at  his 
home  on  a  Friday  evening  and  to  hold  a 
kind  of  informal  conference  about  current 
topics.  At  first  only  a  few  intimates 
attended  for  no  other  purpose  than  to 
enjoy  a  social  hour  after  the  service  at  the 
synagogue;  but,  as  the  fame  of  the  circle 
grew,  their  number  gradually  increased; 
so  that  the  physician’s  commodious  recep¬ 
tion  room  was  not  too  large  for  the  friends 
who  assembled  regularly,  week  after  week, 
under  the  antique  Sabbath  lamp  that  hung 
in  the  centre  of  the  apartment. 


11 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


Both  in  character  and  activity  Dr.  Jacob¬ 
son  was  one  of  the  many  exceptions  to  the 
mediaeval  proverb  that  where  there  are  two 
physicians  you  will  find  three  atheists. 
Jewish  to  the  core,  broadly  sympathetic  to 
all  human  interests,  a  clever  student  of 
history,  and  deeply  read  in  the  lore  and 
philosophy  of  his  people,  his  whole  life 
gained  color  and  aim  from  his  faith  in  the 
peculiar  status  of  the  Jew  as  standard- 
bearer  of  a  divine  message.  He  was  a 
native  of  Courland,  where  he  had  imbibed 
the  best  German  and  Russian  influences  in 
his  youth;  and  after  laying  the  foundation 
of  rabbinical  knowledge,  he  went  to  Ger¬ 
many  to  continue  his  studies  for  the  rab¬ 
binate.  By  chance,  one  day  at  the  univer¬ 
sity,  he  heard  a  lecture  by  a  master  of 
historical  science,  a  gifted  speaker  and 
scholar.  It  fairly  thrilled  him,  and  he 
repeated  the  visit.  Again  and  again  he 
listened,  and  felt  strangely  moved.  Little 


12 


INTRODUCTION 


by  little  his  enthusiasm  for  theology  cooled 
as  his  interest  in  history  increased. 

What  could  he  do  ?  He  knew  that  there 
was  no  possible  future  for  him  as  a  Jew  in 
the  field  of  history,  and  he  loved  his 
religion  too  well  to  sell  his  birthright  for 
position  or  privilege,  as  was  unhappily  too 
common  in  his  day.  So  he  resolved  to 
change  his  career  and  take  up  the  science 
of  medicine.  It  required  some  courage  to 
tell  his  folks  of  his  new  decision,  but  they 
wrote  that  they  were  satisfied  if  he  would 
only  first  complete  his  course  for  the  min¬ 
istry — they  had  a  faint  idea  that  he  might 
ultimately  abandon  his  fancy  for  medicine. 
He  had  willingly  acceded  to  their  desire, 
and  it  was  only  on  the  completion  of  his 
rabbinical  studies  that  he  devoted  himself 
to  medical  research.  After  obtaining  his 
doctorate,  he  came  to  America.  Here  he 
attended  lectures  at  a  leading  university, 
supporting  himself  in  the  meanwhile  by 


2 


13 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


teaching  and  writing.  His  years  of  hard 
work  had  not  deadened  his  zeal  for  Juda¬ 
ism,  and,  like  so  many  physicians  of  his 
calibre,  he  was  the  centre  of  activity  in 
religious  and  educational  matters  in  his 
new  home.  The  Friday  evening  gatherings 
were  at  his  invitation,  and  in  the  program, 
however  informal,  he  was  the  enthusiastic 
leader. 

Who  were  included  in  this  earnest  circle 
week  by  week?  First  was  the  rabbi,  eager 
to  encourage  interest  in  Jewish  education. 
He  was  never  too  tired  after  the  sermon 
and  service  to  take  part  in  the  discussion; 
nay,  he  seemed  to  find  relaxation  in  the  new 
points  of  view  that  were  spiritedly  pre¬ 
sented.  Then  came  a  few  young  lawyers, 
who  were  intensely  interested  in  the  field  of 
communal  work  and  ready  to  spend  much 
of  their  leisure  as  visitors  for  the  Federa¬ 
tion  of  Jewish  Charities.  Next  was  a 
school  principal,  an  expert  in  pedagogy  and 


14 


INTRODUCTION 


its  latest  theories,  who,  aided  by  several 
men  and  women  public  school  teachers, 
gave  a  distinctly  intellectual  tone  to  the  de¬ 
bates.  Some  young  rabbinical  students  and 
a  coterie  of  post-confirmants,  not  yet  past 
their  teens,  furnished  the  youthful  element. 
Add  a  number  of  thoughtful  men  and 
women  from  the  congregation  of  a  more 
sedate  age,  a  few  outsiders,  and  the  young 
people  of  Dr.  Jacobson’s  family  and  of 
friends  who  lived  in  the  neighborhood,  and 
the  circle  was  complete. 

One  evening  the  conversation  turned 
upon  the  history  of  the  Sabbath  lamp  and 
upon  the  part  it  played  in  the  social  and 
religious  life  of  our  people. 

“  You  know  the  saying,  Dr.  Jacobson,” 
said  the  rabbi,  “  ‘  when  the  lamp  is  lit  all 
sorrows  flit.’  We  forget  the  week’s  burden 
in  the  blessing  of  the  Sabbath.” 

“  But  it  was  more  than  a  matter  of  senti¬ 
ment,”  the  physician  rejoined.  “  For  re- 


15 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


call,  rabbi,  the  talmudic  discussion  whether 
lighting  the  Sabbath  lamp  is  an  obligation, 
for  the  neglect  of  which  one  is  punished  in 
the  world  to  come,  or  a  meritorious  act,  a 
mitzwah.  An  interesting  point,  too,  in 
our  day  of  women’s  rights  is  the  fact 
that  it  was  an  obligation  incumbent  upon 
women,  and  only  when  there  was  no  house¬ 
wife  was  the  duty  performed  by  a  man.” 

Here  one  of  the  young  students,  fresh 
from  the  college  atmosphere,  thought  that 
there  was  a  fine  subject  for  debate  with 
regard  to  the  material  employed  for  the 
wick,  as  well  as  to  the  number  of  lights, 
two,  seven,  or  eight. 

“  It  is  curious,”  added  the  rabbi,  “  that 
conforming  to  their  literal  interpretation 
of  Scripture,  the  Karaites,  at  least  the  early 
followers  of  that  sect,  did  not  light  the 
Sabbath  light,  in  obedience  to  the  command 
in  the  Torah:  ‘Ye  shall  kindle  no  fire 
throughout  your  habitations  upon  the  sab¬ 
bath  day.’  ” 


16 


INTRODUCTION 


“  A  suggestion,  Dr.  Jacobson,”  suddenly 
exclaimed  one  of  the  ladies,  who  seemed 
rather  indifferent  to  the  technical  debate 
that  now  sprang  up  as  to  why  olive  oil  was 
preferred  for  feeding  the  wick.  “  A  sug¬ 
gestion,  doctor.” 

“  And  pray,  what  is  the  suggestion,  Mrs. 
Lewis?  ”  asked  Dr.  Jacobson  smilingly. 
Mrs.  Lewis  was  a  leader  in  the  Council  of 
Jewish  Women. 

“  Let  these  discussions  be  varied  by  an 
occasional  less  technical  feature.  It  would 
be  charming  to  listen  now  and  then  to  some 
story  that  is  more  or  less  associated  with 
the  Sabbath,  or  festival,  or  some  contem¬ 
porary  problem.  That  would  interest 
many  of  us  who  are  less  keen — as  the  say¬ 
ing  is — on  rabbinical  subjects.” 

“  That  is  a  capital  idea,  Mrs.  Lewis,” 
the  doctor  quickly  rejoined,  and  promptly 
laid  the  subject  before  the  gathering. 
There  was  little  opposition  to  the  proposal, 


17 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


but  much  favorable  comment.  It  was  re¬ 
solved,  however,  to  make  only  the  first 
Friday  evening  of  each  month  “  story  ” 
night,  so  as  not  to  draw  too  heavily  upon 
the  resources  of  the  few  who  could  write 
or  tell  such  tales. 

And  so  it  happened  that  the  practice 
which  began  a  few  weeks  thereafter  con¬ 
tinued  for  some  years  with  intervals  each 
summer.  There  under  the  Sabbath  lamp 
the  tales  were  told,  either  in  the  form  of  a 
written  narrative  which  was  read  to  the 
gathering,  or  as  an  impromptu  recital  of  an 
incident  or  episode  which  was  later  en¬ 
larged  into  approved  story  form.  Each 
tale,  too,  at  its  conclusion  was  the  sub¬ 
ject  of  animated  discussion,  in  which  char¬ 
acter  and  treatment  were  duly  criticised. 

It  was  peculiarly  appropriate  that  we  all 
gathered  under  the  Sabbath  lamp,  which 
the  rabbi  had  bought  in  Krotoschin  on  one 
of  his  trips  abroad,  and  had  given  to  the 


18 


INTRODUCTION 


doctor  on  his  return.  The  lamp  had  come 
originally  from  Strassburg,  and  was  of 
seventeenth  century  make — a  silver  lamp 
hanging  from  the  ceiling,  resembling  a 
chandelier,  with  its  seven  branches  ar¬ 
ranged  both  for  candles  as  well  as  for 
oil.  Its  history  was  not  known  in  detail, 
and  there  was  no  written  memorial.  The 
lamp  itself  was  its  own  memorial — it  had 
shone  over  Jewish  households  for  many 
generations  and  in  centuries  when  to  retain 
it  demanded  courage  of  the  highest  order. 
It  was  often  at  the  Jew’s  peril  that  he  kept 
it  lit;  and  how  he  idolized  his  Sabbath, 
sang  sweet  hymns  in  its  honor,  glorified 
its  history  and  its  aim  when  its  observance 
implied  hardship  and  sacrifice!  Thus  the 
lamp  served  to  symbolize  the  spirit  of 
Judaism  which  was  at  its  brightest  amid  the 
burden  and  sorrow,  aptly  illustrating  the 
words  of  the  ancient  text:  “  Thy  statutes 
have  been  my  songs  in  the  house  of  my 
pilgrimage.” 


19 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


On  the  first  story  evening,  just  before 
the  tale  was  to  be  told,  as  an  appropriate 
prelude,  Dr.  Jacobson  asked  one  of  his 
daughters  to  read  some  stanzas  from 
Michael  Henry’s  poem  “  The  Sabbath 
Lamp,”  which,  though  too  little  known, 
gives  in  eloquent,  graceful  verse,  without 
any  exaggerated  sentiment,  the  mission  of 
one  of  our  imperishable  home  symbols : 

Shine,  Sabbath  Lamp,  oh,  shine  with  tender  ray! 
Pierce  the  soft  -wavelets  of  the  fading  light; 

Speed  the  faint  footsteps  of  the  waning  day, 

And  greet  the  shadows  of  the  coming  night!  .... 

Ah,  shine  afar!  and  may  thy  waves  of  light 
Bring  near  the  absent  dear  ones  far  away; 

Show  us  our  loved  ones  in  our  dreams  to-night, 

Our  dead  who  rest  in  Heaven’s  bright  Sabbath  day! 

Shine  on  the  Past — and,  as  the  raindrops  gleam 
With  rainbow  tints  where’er  the  sunbeams  rest; 

So  may  our  tears  grow  bright  beneath  thy  beam, 

And  every  grief  be  sanctified  and  blest. 

Shine  on  the  Present — may  thy  beacon  light 

Beam  on  life’s  sea  where  mists  and  tempests  reign; 

And  may  its  radiance  guide  our  course  aright, 

And  fling  its  silvery  track  across  the  main. 

20 


INTRODUCTION 


Shine  on  the  Future — lead  these  hearts  of  ours 
Far  beyond  home  and  clime  and  native  strand. 

Light  up  the  East-gleam  on  yon  ruined  towers; 

And  rend  the  gloom  that  veils  our  long-lost  land. 

Shine,  Sabbath  Lamp,  with  ray  of  heavenly  birth, 
Emblem  of  Faith  and  Hope  in  mercy  given; 

Gleam  on  the  rude,  dark  path  we  tread  on  earth, 

And  light  our  souls  to  find  the  road  to  heaven. 

As  the  young  girl’s  sweet  voice  died 
away,  came  the  story.  And  regularly  on 
the  first  Friday  night  of  each  month  was 
heard  a  new  tale.  In  the  course  of  a  few 
years  these  tales  increased  to  such  a  goodly 
number  that  it  was  resolved  to  arrange 
them  in  book  form.  Of  course  it  was  im¬ 
perative  to  make  some  changes  when  the 
stories  came  to  be  read  by  the  regularly 
appointed  critic  who  was  an  outsider. 
There  was  a  ruthless  slashing  here  and 
there,  a  heartless  scissoring  now  and  then; 
some  stories  in  fact  were  declared  unsuit¬ 
able  for  a  larger  audience,  and  were  very 
properly  omitted.  It  was  a  wholesome 


21 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


change  in  all  directions;  and  as  the  volume 
grew  to  completeness,  all  of  us  began  to  re¬ 
gard  the  Sabbath  lamp  with  additional 
interest  and  affection.  It  was  the  inspirer 
of  the  tales,  under  its  radiance  they  had 
their  growth ;  and  were  some  of  us  too  dar¬ 
ing  to  hope  that  a  portion  of  its  power,  a 
share  of  its  purpose,  a  ray,  however  faint,  of 
its  light,  might  have  entered  the  book,  to 
make  it  a  divine  blessing  to  old  and  young? 


22 


THE  OLD  SHOFAR 


I  cannot  tell  how  the  truth  may  be; 

I  say  the  tale  as  ’twas  said  to  me. 

— Scott. 

It  was  told  in  cliff-crowned  Seligstadt 
many  years  ago.  Out  there  in  the  sum¬ 
mer  garden  we  all  had  gathered  to  watch 
the  moon  rise  far  above  the  opposite  hills; 
but  as  the  performance  was  indefinitely 
postponed  for  that  evening,  owing  to  the 
appearance  of  a  whole  fleet  of  darkening 
clouds,  our  genial  host,  Herr  Doodlesack, 
volunteered  the  tale  to  pass  the  time  away. 

The  comments  it  evoked  were  by  no 
means  favorable. 

“  The  idea,”  exclaimed  one,  that — ” 

“  And  why  not?  ”  replied  our  host, 
smacking  his  lips,  still  thirsty  after  the 
fourth  glass  of  beer. 

“  Ich  bitte  Sie  ”  asserted  a  second,  “  You 
surely  do  not  mean  to  say  that — ” 


23 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


”  Why,  surely,”  rejoined  Herr  Doodle- 
sack,  just  a  little  impatiently.  His  tales 
were  wont  to  inspire  enthusiasm,  not  to 
create  doubt. 

“  But,  Herr  Doodlesack,”  remonstrated 
a  third,  “  you  are  certainly  not  serious  in 
asserting  that — ” 

“  Of  course  I  am  serious,”  the  host  an¬ 
swered,  making  a  visible  effort  to  regain 
his  composure  which  was  being  sadly  ruffled. 
He  could  endure  to  have  his  beer  criticised, 
but  not  the  gentle  effervescence  of  his 
brain. 

“  But  to  imagine,”  chimed  in  a  fourth, 
“  to  imagine  the  possibility  of — ” 

“  Why  not?  ”  dryly  exclaimed  our  host, 
as  he  abruptly  turned  in  his  seat  and  left 
the  garden. 

It  was  evident  that  the  story  had  been 
rather  sceptically  received  by  my  compan¬ 
ions;  but  it  had  somewhat  pleased  me,  I 
confess,  and  I  could  not  rest  that  night 


24 


THE  OLD  SHOFAR 


until  I  had  jotted  it  briefly  down.  It  ap¬ 
peared  to  me  unconventional  in  tone  and 
treatment  and  pitched  in  a  different  key 
from  ordinary  New  Year’s  tales.  There 
was  no  smoke  of  fagots,  no  masked  inquisi¬ 
tors,  no  trembling  victims,  no  sounds  of 
lamentation,  no  shroud-clad  forms  chant¬ 
ing  at  a  rapid  rate  the  traditional  melodies; 
no  little,  grey-bearded  man  in  a  curious 
white  cap  trimmed  with  gold,  which  kept 
bobbing  up  and  down  over  his  head,  as  he 
tremulously  blew  his  notes,  while  everybody 
looked  awe-struck,  except  the  little  boys 
who  were  compelled  to  wait  for  breakfast 
until  the  shofar  was  blown.  No,  indeed; 
ah,  no,  indeed !  there  was  nothing  like  this. 
This  story  rang  out  an  utterly  different 
note,  strains  of  — ,  but  we  need  not  antici¬ 
pate.  The  reader  will  find  it  all  out  for 
himself,  if  he  be  patient  until  the  end. 


25 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


I 

✓ 

What  Love  Said  to  the  Shofar 

Were  the  two  seated  beneath  a  lime- 
tree  on  a  joyous  afternoon  in  June,  gazing 
raptly  into  each  other’s  eyes,  while  a  little 
bird  upon  a  swaying  bough  poured  forth 
its  roundelay?  Or,  perhaps,  was  it  at  early 
morn,  whose  fair  dawn  suggested  the  still 
fairer  promise  of  love’s  sweet  dream?  Was 
he  an  impetuous,  plumed  knight,  in  all  the 
circumstance  of  war,  and  she  a  timid,  dainty 
maid,  listening  to  vows  which  are  but 
uttered  to  be  broken  ?  It  was  nothing  of  the 
kind.  There  was  no  lime-tree,  bird,  sun¬ 
rise,  or  plumed  knight;  but  it  was  the 
twilight  hour  in  September,  and  soft  shad¬ 
ows,  half  prophetic  of  coming  sorrows, 
were  approaching  the  little  dwelling  of 
widow  Heidenheim  in  quaint  Dyrenfurth- 
on-the-Oder.  For  a  time  the  sunbeams 
toyed  with  its  overhanging  gables,  as  if 


26 


THE  OLD  SHOFAR 


reluctant  to  enter  the  home ;  then  gathering 
courage,  they  crept  nearer  and  nearer,  until 
with  a  bold  leap  they  suddenly  darted  into 
the  front  room  of  the  second  story,  where 
before  the  broad  hearth  filled  with  wild 
grasses  stood  a  youth  and  a  maiden  engaged 
in  eager  converse.  And  neither  knew  that 
they  had  a  curious  listener — the  old  shofar 
which  hung  over  the  mantel,  and  missed  not 
a  tone,  a  glance,  a  whisper,  or  a  sigh. 

“  Next  Thursday  will  be  the  New  Year, 
Bona/’  said  the  young  man,  in  as  gloomy 
a  tone  as  though  he  were  uttering  a  death- 
sentence. 

“  As  if  I  did  not  know  it,  Heinrich!  ” 
she  replied,  just  as  gloomily. 

“  Do  you  know,  Bona?  I  have  not  only 
lost  my  heart,  wholly,  irrecoverably,  and 
that  is  bad  enough;  but  I  have  lost  hope  as 
well,  and  that  is  decidedly  worse.  I  am 
in  despair.”  And  he  took  long  strides  up 
and  down  the  room  in  his  agitation. 


27 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


She  had  no  such  cheerless  confession  to 
make,  but  looked  as  if  she,  too,  were  in  the 
same  unenviable  condition.  It  was  evident 
that  they  were  partners  in  the  establishment 
of  Gloom,  Despair,  &  Co.,  Unlimited. 

“  I  don’t  blame  your  mother  for  the 
condition  she  imposed,  but  how  can  I  raise 
iooo  gulden  before  the  New  Year  o'*  I 
haven’t  one-tenth  of  the  sum;  I  am  only  a 
poor  referendarius.  If  she  could  but  wait 
another  year!  I  am  bound  to  get  along, 
and  my  practice  must  increase.  But  it  is 
vain  to  expect  her  to  yield.  I  suppose  I 
must  face  the  inevitable  and  say  farewell 
to  you  and  every  bright  hope  of  the  future. 
I  cannot  ask  you  to  wait.  I  cannot  bid  you 
share  my  life  of  poverty.  That  would  be 
cruel  and  unjust  to  you.  So  it  is  best  to 
go.  It  is  the  old,  old  story,  Bona.  It  is 
useless  to  say  more.  We  could  be  so  happy, 
but  that  is  now  impossible.” 

“  Heinrich,  you  are  too  hasty  and  pas- 


28 


THE  OLD  SHOFAR 


sionate.  Perhaps  mother  would  not  be  so 
unyielding.  Let  us  ask  her  once  more. 
Come  after  service  on  Wednesday  evening, 
and  speak  to  her  again.” 

“  I  fear  it  is  of  no  avail,  Bona,”  said  the 
timid  youth,  “  but  I  shall  come  and  see  you 
then  anyway,  even  though  it  may  be  for 
the  last  time.” 

Was  it  not  sad  and  dreadful  to  witness 
such  young  hearts  in  their  agonizing  pain? 
How  the  shofar  felt  for  them,  as  their  tale 
of  love  for  the  thousandth  time  entered  its 
heart !  How  it  throbbed  in  sympathy  when 
they  clasped  hands  at  parting!  How  agi¬ 
tated  it  became  when  a  hot  tear  or  two 
gathered  in  her  eyes !  And  was  it  a  blush 
or  a  sunbeam  that  passed  over  its  weather¬ 
beaten  countenance  when  they  kissed  in  the 
secluded  doorway? 

His  steps  died  away.  She  returned  to 
the  room,  and  stood  before  the  hearth.  It 
was  dark  now,  very  fortunately  for  the 


3 


29 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


shofar,  otherwise  Bona  would  have  de¬ 
tected  something  strange  in  its  appearance. 
It  was  shining  like  gold,  old-fashioned  gold, 
and  was  smiling  in  its  glee ;  it  was  chuckling 
as  if  it  had  a  merry  tale  to  tell.  But  Bona 
did  not  see  it.  The  room  was  dark  to 
her,  and  her  life  seemed  darker  still, 
although  she  did  not  stride  up  and  down  in 
her  despair,  but  patiently  stood  near  the 
hearth  beneath  the  shofar. 

Now  the  shofar  was  centuries  old  before 
Heinrich’s  father  on  his  death-bed  be¬ 
queathed  it  to  his  son.  It  had  been  born  in 
Egypt,  carried  to  Spain,  thence  to  Ger¬ 
many,  and  had  at  last  found  rest  in  peace¬ 
ful  Dyrenfurth,  where  Heinrich  had  hung 
it  over  the  hearth  in  the  widow’s  home. 
During  all  these  years,  how  varied  had 
been  its  experiences,  what  sights  it  had 
seen,  what  sounds  it  had  heard!  The 
prayers,  the  aspirations  of  Heinrich’s  ances¬ 
tors  had  breathed  through  it.  It  had 


30 


THE  OLD  SHOFAR 


caught  the  echo  of  a  thousand  years,  and 
what  precious  associations  and  memories 
were  stored  within  its  recesses!  It  had 
been  treasured  of  old,  when  it  had  been 
active  in  its  ministrations ;  it  was  venerated 
now  in  its  quiet  household  shrine.  How  it 
had  charged  die  people  on  the  New  Year, 
how  it  had  thrilled  them  on  the  Day  of 
Atonement,  how  its  reverberations  marched 
on  from  year  to  year,  instilling  solemn 
thoughts  and  tear-bought  recollections!  It 
had  been  saved  from  fire  and  carnage;  it 
had  been  rescued  from  shipwreck  and 
storm.  And  yet,  though  its  history  was  so 
remarkable,  its  experience  so  long  and 
varied,  it  had  never,  never  witnessed  so  sad 
a  scene.  Would  you  believe  it?  That 
shofar  was  in  such  good  humor  as  fairly  to 
shine  like  gold  in  the  darkness,  and  yet 
Bona  did  not  see  its  countenance.  It  was, 
however,  soon  to  speak  convincingly. 


31 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


II 

How  the  Shofar  Replied 
It  was  New  Year’s  eve  in  peaceful 
Dyrenfurth.  The  lowly  synagogue  was 
empty  now,  the  lanes  no  longer  alive  with 
the  tread  and  tramp  of  the  worshippers. 
The  old  mediaeval  town  seemed  hushed  to 
sleep,  while  the  stars  kept  ceaseless  watch 
above.  They  have  had  long  experience  in 
that  kind  of  work,  and  are  experts  in  their 
line. 

If  you  had  accompanied  the  spirit  of  the 
New  Year  on  its  wanderings  that  night,  you 
would  have  found  joy  and  contentment  in 
every  Jewish  home;  for  New  Year  was  not 
regarded  as  a  superstition,  or  treated  with 
an  exaggerated  importance  which  forbade 
social  diversion  and  good  humor.  The 
people  did  not  condense  all  their  piety  into 
one  annual  festival ;  nor  did  they  wear  awe¬ 
struck  countenances  for  that  occasion  only. 

It  was  a  joyous  scene,  a  family  reunion,  a 

32 


THE  OLD  SHOFAR 


festival  of  light  and  gladness,  which  glowed 
the  more  radiantly  because  of  the  fervent 
religious  feelings  which  gave  it  birth.  It 
was  a  fine  illustration  of  the  saying  of 
Rab  Hama  in  the  Talmud:  When  a  man 
is  summoned  to  court,  he  usually  robes 
himself  in  black,  and  presents  himself  un¬ 
shorn,  in  his  uncertainty  as  to  the  result. 
But  the  Israelites  on  their  New  Year, 
which  is  a  day  of  divine  judgment,  don 
white  garments,  trim  their  beards,  eat  and 
drink,  and  are  merry  in  spirit,  in  the  full 
faith  that  God  will  work  miracles  for 
them. 

There  were  no  two  persons  in  the  whole 
community  who  desired  more  fervently  the 
appearance  of  a  miracle  that  evening  than 
Bona  and  Heinrich.  A  huge  bag  of  gold 
from  the  sky  would  have  given  them  satis¬ 
faction;  the  softening  of  the  widow’s  heart 
would  have  filled  them  with  equal  delight. 
And  as  they  sat  by  the  table,  quieter  than 


33 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


usual,  after  the  evening  meal,  it  was  clear 
that  they  were  pondering  over  the  prob¬ 
ability  of  either  miracle  happening.  That 
another  miracle  was  going  to  happen — of 
this  they  had  not  the  slightest  inkling,  as 
coming  events  do  not  always  cast  their 
shadows  before.  But  the  old  shofar  knew 
better.  It  could  hardly  restrain  itself;  it 
could  with  difficulty  refrain  from  telling 
the  lovers  that  for  which  they  would  have 
given  everything  to  learn.  It  checked  its 
heart’s  throbbings,  it  controlled  its  im¬ 
patience;  it  held  its  breath,  and  listened 
intently. 

“  Well,”  said  Heinrich  at  last,  “  New 
Year  has  come,  and  I  have  not  the  thou¬ 
sand  gulden.  What  shall  I  do?  ” 

Bona  wondered  whether  her  mother 
caught  the  tone  of  despair  in  every  syllable. 

“  I  thought  I  would  be  more  successful, 
but  I — I  was  mistaken,  it  seems.” 

Could  her  mother  fail  to  note  the  humili- 


34 


THE  OLD  SHOFAR 


ation  in  every  word?  asked  the  maiden 
silently. 

“  I  have  done  my  best,  Frau  Heiden- 
heim,  I  have  done  my  best,”  he  repeated. 
“  I  am  the  most  unfortunate  fellow  in  the 
world.” 

Surely,  thought  Bona,  mother’s  heart 
would  break  at  such  an  outburst  of  grief. 

“  Still  we  are  both  young,  and  she  loves 
me.  Can  you  not  give  me  one  more  chance, 
one  more  New  Year,  Frau  Heidenheim?  ” 

Bona’s  looks  were  downcast  now.  Her 
mother’s  answers  were  so  slow  in  coming, 
while  hers  had  long  since  been  given.  Why 
so  obdurate?  Why  so  cruel  and  unrelent¬ 
ing?  It  was  unbearable. 

“  Dear  Heinrich,”  said  the  widow  at 
last,  “  I  imposed  that  condition  for  your 
own  good  and  for  Bona’s  happiness.  A 
thousand  gulden  is  not  too  much  to  start 
life  with.  But  I  do  not  wish  to  make  you 
both  unhappy.  So  if  you  like,  let  next  New 


35 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


Year  decide,  if  Bona  can  wait  so  long  and 
the  thousand  gulden  are  then  forth¬ 
coming.” 

Of  course  the  widow’s  answer  was  not 
given  in  such  formal  sentences,  nor  was  it 
heard  in  sober  silence.  There  was  just  a 
little  hysterical  sobbing  on  her  part,  for 
the  good  Jewess  is  easily  moved  to  tears, 
and  the  lovers  gave  vent  to  a  great  deal  of 
noisy  exhilaration,  in  which  Bona’s  little 
sisters  and  brothers  joined.  It  was  some 
minutes  before  the  household  regained  its 
usual  calm. 

“  I  must  blow  the  shofar,”  suddenly  ex¬ 
claimed  Heinrich,  “  if  only  for  luck  next 
year.”  And  he  seized  it  boldly  from  its 
nook  above  the  mantel.  No  one  had  used 
it  since  his  father’s  death,  and  the  children 
watched  the  preparation  with  considerable 
interest,  although  the  regularity  of  this  act 

was  not  above  suspicion. 

36 


THE  OLD  SHOFAR 


“  How  heavy  it  is,  Bona,”  he  exclaimed, 
as  he  drew  it  in  approved  style  to  his  lips, 
and  essayed  to  blow  an  exultant  note. 
“  Why,  what’s  the  matter  with  it?  ”  he 
added,  as  not  a  sound  was  heard.  Again 
he  blew  with  all  his  might,  as  if  he  were 
about  to  demolish  the  walls  of  Jericho. 
But  his  efforts  were  in  vain.  The  shofar 
remained  obstinately  silent.  What  was 
the  matter?  Heinrich  held  it  up  to  the  light, 
and  peered  through  it.  He  again  strove 
to  blow  a  bugle  blast,  and  again  was  dis¬ 
comfited. 

“  Bother  the  shofar,”  he  exclaimed, 
striking  it  on  the  table  with  such  force  that 
a  great  gap  was  made  in  its  side,  and  .  .  .  . 
Down  they  fell  noisily  on  the  ground,  yel¬ 
low  guineas  of  the  English  realm,  which 
Heinrich’s  father  had  hoarded  up  for  his 
son’s  sake.  Down  they  fell  in  such  quanti¬ 
ties  that  the  little  ones  could  not  gather 
them  fast  enough.  Down  they  fell  in  a 


37 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


golden  shower  which  bade  glad  hope  live 
anew  in  youth  and  maid,  and  made  their 
hearts  gay  and  grateful  for  the  sudden, 
unexpected  bounty. 

****** 

This  is  how  the  shofar  replied,  and  if 
the  reader  is  inclined  to  disbelieve  the  mir¬ 
acle,  how  else  can  he  account  for  the  fact 
that  Bona  and  Heinrich  were  married  in 
the  early  spring,  long,  long  before  the  next 
New  Year? 

Perhaps  you  are  sceptical.  Well,  if  you 
ever  go  to  Dyrenfurth  and  see  the  shofar 
hanging  on  its  olden  hook  above  the  man¬ 
tel,  how  otherwise  can  you  explain  the  gap 
in  its  side?  No,  no,  it  was  a  miracle;  and 
I  have  not  the  slightest  hesitation  in  adding 
that  to  have  such  a  miracle  happen  for  their 
sakes,  many,  many  young  people  like  Bona 
and  Heinrich  would  endure  with  com¬ 
placency  the  hopeless  fracture  of  every 

shofar  in  their  immediate  vicinity. 

38 


BORN  AGAIN 


This  is  God’s  chosen  Minister;  this  one 

Shall  lead  his  people  in  the  righteous  way  .... 

A  dream  of  what  a  Minister  must  be. 

— Nina  Davis,  Songs  of  Exile. 

Most  people  would  say  that  it  was  no 
new  preacher  at  all;  he  had  the  same  eyes, 
nose,  mouth,  and  hair,  was  of  the  same 
height,  and  offered  the  same  hands.  But 
others  who  can  read  between  the  lines,  and 
are  thankful  for  the  gift,  declared  it  was 
a  new  preacher.  He  had  gone  through 
some  experience.  His  soul  had  changed. 
He  had  been  born  again ! 

Born  again?  That  is  a  strange  notion 
for  a  Jewish  minister  to  be  born  again.  It 
has  grown  to  be  a  bit  uncanny,  although 
there  is  nothing  un-Jewish  in  the  phrase. 
It  implies  to  be  trained  anew,  to  be  given  a 
post-graduate  course  in  the  great  school  of 
life’s  experience,  and  to  receive  a  new  de- 


39 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


gree — Doctor  of  Humility.  And  humility 
is  a  quality  more  necessary  for  the  pulpit 
than  philosophy,  sociology,  or  pedagogy, 
which  are  so  popular  just  now  with  their 
variegated  hoods  and  insignia  of  scholar¬ 
ship.  Yet  the  new  birth  is  no  twentieth-cen¬ 
tury  idea,  it  goes  back  to  the  psalmist 
who  asked  the  Lord  to  create  in  him  a  new 
and  contrite  spirit,  which  He  would  not 
despise. 

It  was  an  afternoon,  a  few  weeks  before 
the  Day  of  Atonement.  There  was  no 
visible  sign  of  the  approaching  solemnity, 
save  in  the  somewhat  shorter  days  and  the 
longer  shadows  of  evening.  The  air  was 
a  little  cooler  perhaps,  the  street  somewhat 
more  crowded,  as  the  city  dwellers  were 
returning  from  their  country  haunts. 
Otherwise  there  was  no  outward  evidence 
that  Israel’s  hour  of  revival  was  swiftly 
nearing  with  its  deep-toned  message  to  old 
and  young,  rich  and  poor. 


40 


BORN  AGAIN 


The  preacher  sat  in  his  study.  It  was 
his  “  den  ”  where  he  was  likely  to  be  secure 
from  all  unpleasant  interruptions  which 
jarred  on  his  sensitive  nerves,  and  rudely 
disturbed  his  golden  moments  of  inspira¬ 
tion.  It  was  furnished  with  rare  taste  and 
luxury:  soft  rugs  upon  the  floor,  hand¬ 
some  vases  on  the  low  bookcases  that  encir¬ 
cled  the  walls,  rare  etchings  upon  the  easel, 
costly  engravings  on  every  side,  a  cabinet 
of  coins  in  one  corner,  and  a  poem  in  mar¬ 
ble  in  another.  No  wonder  he  felt  a  thrill 
of  self-satisfaction  as  he  glanced  in  every 
direction.  His  sense  of  comfort,  too,  was 
heightened  by  the  roll  of  proof-sheets  on 
his  desk — his  latest  work  almost  ready  for 
publication.  There  was  a  long  row  of  vol¬ 
umes  published  by  him  since  his  occupancy 
of  the  pulpit,  but  this  was  to  be  his  crown¬ 
ing  effort  and  to  increase  his  fame  still 
further. 

There  were  the  books,  the  creation  of 


41 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


his  genius,  on  a  long  shelf  all  by  them¬ 
selves.  The  critics  spoke  highly  of  them; 
the  public  bought  them ;  the  learned  world 
acknowledged  their  merit.  History,  biog¬ 
raphy,  criticism,  were  his  special  fields. 
But  his  mind  was  so  versatile  that  he  could 
produce  novels  as  well ;  and  his  poems  had 
a  rapid  sale.  As  a  popular  lecturer  he 
always  attracted  a  large  audience.  His 
travels  to  the  East  and  his  discovery  of  a 
missing  fragment  of  the  Apocrypha  gained 
him  the  doctorate  from  two  Old  World 
universities. 

Yes,  he  had  been  singularly  successful, 
and  that,  too,  without  stooping  to  any  mean 
tricks.  He  was  above  sycophancy  and  self- 
advertising.  He  had  made  his  career  by 
hard  pushing,  by  resolute  work,  by  sheer 
stamina,  he  was  wont  to  say.  Not  two 
decades  in  the  pulpit,  he  had  long  out¬ 
stripped  men  of  his  class  in  the  seminary, 
and  left  them  and  older  graduates  far  be- 


42 


BORN  AGAIN 


hind.  He  was  known  as  the  eminent,  the 
distinguished,  and  he  enjoyed  the  luxury 
of  fame  as  only  men  of  his  character  can. 
He  had  never  done  a  low  action;  he  had 
never  driven  over  an  adversary;  but  his 
talent  and  genius  from  the  very  start  made 
a  track  for  themselves. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  the  preacher 
who  was  never  idle,  but  always  a  miracle  of 
industry,  had  one  solitary  failing:  he 
loved  to  dwell  upon  his  success  and  go  over, 
in  memory,  each  step  in  his  advancement. 
That  afternoon  he  was  just  in  such  a  mood, 
and  his  pride  was  attaining  fever-heat. 

“Simeon!”  It  was  the  voice  of  his 
wife  as  she  drew  aside  the  heavy  curtain 
that  shut  off  the  “  den  ”  from  the  hall. 

“Well?”  came  a  querulous  tone  from 
the  preacher,  disturbed  in  his  reverie. 

“  The  boy  whom  you  wished  to  see  is 
here.” 

“  What  boy?  ”  he  asked  in  an  impatient 
tone. 


43 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


“  Don’t  you  remember?  The  boy  for 
whom  you  were  to  secure  a  situation, — that 
poor  Roumanian  lad.  You  cannot,  surely, 
have  forgotten  it.”  There  was  a  shade 
of  pain  in  her  voice. 

“  Oh,  let  him  come  to-morrow,  Sarah; 
I  cannot  be  bothered  now.  I  have  my 
thoughts  busy  enough  with  other  matters. 
Let  him  come,  say,  this  day  next  week.” 

“  But,  Simeon,”  with  gentle  remon¬ 
strance  in  her  tone,  “  Simeon,  his  mother 
is  destitute ;  she  must  have  money.” 

“  I  cannot  help  it.  Why  am  I  always 
troubled  by  that  class  of  people  ?  It  would 
tax  the  patience  of  a  Job,  or  the  purse  of 
a  Croesus.  Let  him  come  next  week;  do 
you  hear?  Tell  him  to  be  here  next  Wed¬ 
nesday.  I’ll  attend  to  the  matter  then.” 

The  preacher’s  wife  heard;  she  sighed, 
as  she  turned  away,  and  bade  the  boy  come 
the  following  week.  Then  seeing  him  to 
the  door,  she  gave  him  a  trifle  for  present 
needs. 


44 


BORN  AGAIN 


The  preacher  resumed  his  reverie,  but 
found  it  difficult  to  regain  his  self-satisfac¬ 
tion.  His  nature  was  keenly  sensitive,  and 
the  slightest  cause  would  often  produce  the 
intensest  jar.  And  now  what  had  snapped 
asunder  his  pleasant  fancies?  What  had 
vexed  him  at  the  moment  of  his  exhilara¬ 
tion? 

It  was  his  wife’s  sigh,  low,  tremulous, 
scarcely  audible,  which  had  penetrated  his 
soul,  and  rankled  there,  as  if  endowed  with 
physical  potency.  It  was  the  sigh  of  his 
wife,  gentle,  patient,  uncomplaining,  that 
had  stirred  him  from  his  dreams.  He  rose 
from  his  chair.  He  paced  up  and  down 
the  room.  He  never  sighed.  Why  should 
his  wife  sigh?  And  why  should  that  sigh 
produce  such  inward  ill?  Had  he  said 
aught  unkind?  Was  he  not  always  gentle 
to  her? 

His  wife’s  sigh !  She  was  not  looking  so 
young.  There  were  streaks  of  gray  in  her 


4 


45 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


hair,  and  her  cheeks  were  not  so  full  and 
round.  His  wife’s  sigh!  Was  it  not  her 
wealth  that  gave  him  leisure  and  inde¬ 
pendence?  Was  it  not  her  influence  that 
had  spread  his  fame?  Did  her  sigh  imply 
regret  at  her  choice,  or  her  bitter  disap¬ 
pointment?  Now  a  man  who  can  still  real¬ 
ize  that  he  has  a  conscience  is  not  likely  to 
go  long  astray,  and  the  preacher  had  a  con¬ 
science,  and  it  was  making  a  sharp  fight. 
Jacob’s  contest  of  old  with  the  wrestling 
angel  finds  its  parallel  in  many  an  inward 
struggle  of  the  human  soul.  The  preacher’s 
few  minutes  of  agony  seemed  as  long  as  the 
hours  to  the  patriarch,  and  he,  too,  pre¬ 
vailed.  His  heart  was  changed,  like  the 
name  of  his  prototype. 

“  I  would  like  to  see  him  so  much!  ” 
The  tones  of  a  fresh,  strong  voice  fell 
upon  his  ear,  as  the  curtain  was  drawn 
aside,  and  a  young  man  entered. 

“  Ah,  doctor,  I  could  not  resist  the  de- 


46 


born  Again 


sire  to  see  you.  I  have  heard  of  you  so 
often,  and  your  books  are  so  well  thumbed 
at  home.  I  have  so  much  to  say.”  His 
eagerness  rang  out  in  every  word. 

“  You  know  I  have  chosen  the  ministry 
for  my  vocation.  O  doctor,  I  feel  so  un¬ 
fitted  for  the  task.  My  doubts  are  not  of 
God,  or  religion,  or  the  good  Book,  or  the 
lovely  traditions  and  associations  that  blend 
with  the  faith.  No,  no,  my  doubts  are  of 
myself,  my  unworthiness,  my  littleness,  my 
poverty  of  the  spirit.  What  can  I  do  to 
cope  with  that  task?  How  can  I  become 
a  preacher  to  humanity?  How  shall  I 
drive  home  our  divine  religion?  How 
shall  I  impel  men  to  follow  the  Almighty? 
The  work  is  so  sublime,  and  I  so  insignifi¬ 
cant.  What  can  I  do?  ” 

The  preacher  heard  him.  It  seemed 
that  his  features  were  familiar,  and  his 
voice  was  not  strange. 

“  O  doctor,  I  do  not  care  for  books, 


47 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


when  struggling  men  and  weak  women  and 
tender  children  are  to  be  uplifted.  I  do  not 
wish  for  fame.  I  do  not  look  for  success, 
measured  by  a  large  congregation,  a 
princely  salary,  and  a  growing  reputation. 
I  would  have  the  prophet’s  ideal  realized 
in  my  life.  Let  the  spirit  of  God  rest  upon 
me,  the  spirit  of  wisdom  and  understand¬ 
ing,  however  lowly  my  portion.  Let  me 
not  judge  after  the  sight  of  my  eyes,  nor 
decide  after  the  hearing  of  my  ears. 
These  words  of  Isaiah  always  occur  to 
me,  doctor.  I  made  them  the  text  of  my 
graduation  sermon  at  the  seminary  a  few 
weeks  ago,  I — ” 

“  His  graduation  sermon!  ”  thought  the 
preacher.  “  Why  it  was  my  text  when  I 
graduated !  ” 

“O  doctor,  doctor!”  the  young  man 
cried,  as  tears  started  in  his  eyes,  “  pardon 
my  impulsiveness.  I  do  not  wish  to  be 
faithless  to  my  ideal.  So  many  start  well 


48 


BORN  AGAIN 


and  fail.  I  want  to  translate  that  text  into 
life.  There  is  so  much  to  be  done  and  so 
few  to  do  it.  Don’t  you  recall  those  lines 
from  Lowell? 

The  Lord  wants  reapers;  oh,  mount  up 

Before  night  comes  and  says:  ‘Too  late!’ 

Stay  not  for  taking  scrip  or  cup, 

The  Master  hungers  while  ye  wait. 

“  Those  lines,  those  lines,”  said  the 
preacher  to  himself ;  “  why  do  I  always 
hear  them  now?  Have  I  waited  for  scrip 
or  cup  while  some  one  has  hungered?  ” 

“  I  know  no  greater  curse,  doctor,”  con¬ 
tinued  the  young  man,  with  his  cheeks  all 
aflame  with  enthusiasm,  “  than  to  have  my 
unfulfilled  ideal  rebuke  me  as  I  grow  old. 
To  have  the  spectre  of  the  unrealized  al¬ 
ways  around  me ;  to  hear  the  accusing  voice 
of  opportunity  misspent  and  advantages 
misapplied;  to  feel  that  I  have  been  dis¬ 
loyal  and  cowardly  and  bent  only  on  my 
own  advancement,  while  religion  has  hun- 


49 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


gered — the  thought  would  drive  me  wild. 
So  I  have  come  to  you,  good  sir,  for 
kindly  counsel.  Tell  me  what  I  shall  do. 
You  are  a  wise  counsellor,  you  sympathize 
with  me.  You,  too,  once  were  young  like 
myself.” 

“  You  have  come  to  me — to  me — for 
counsel!”  the  preacher  exclaimed,  slowly 
rising  from  his  chair  and  advancing.  “  Do 
you  know  how  faithless  I  have  been  to  my 
youth’s  ideal?  Oh,  spare  me,  spare  me.” 

The  preacher  awoke.  Was  it  but  a  rev¬ 
erie  after  all  ?  Had  his  youth  come  back  to 
accuse  him,  like  in  Jean  Paul  Richter’s 
dream? 

“  Sarah,  Sarah!  ”  he  exclaimed,  tearing 
aside  the  curtain,  and  folding  her,  as  she 
came,  in  a  passionate  embrace.  “  Sarah, 
you  shall  never  sigh  again.  It  is  still  day 
for  us.  It  is  not  too  late,  thank  God !  ” 

“  Why,  Simeon !  ”  was  her  startling  ex¬ 
clamation,  “What  do  you  mean?  ” 


50 


BORN  AGAIN 


He  told  her  of  his  wrestling  spirit  and 
his  victory.  She  listened  contented. 

“  I  knew  the  awakening  would  come,  my 
husband,”  she  rejoined  calmly. 

jjc  ^ 

It  was  Kol  Nidre  night,  when  Israel 
throughout  the  world  is  a  suppliant  before 
the  Almighty.  He  preached  as  he  never 
had  preached  before.  And  in  the  morning 
and  the  afternoon  of  the  great  day  there 
was  something  in  his  voice  and  manner 
which  at  once  aroused  surprise.  From 
week  to  week  the  wonderment  grew.  He 
ceased  to  arraign,  to  denounce,  to  analyze 
the  weaknesses  and  defects  in  the  men  and 
the  women  before  him  with  a  certain  pride 
and  an  evident  sense  of  superiority.  He 
dwelt  more  and  more  on  their  lovable  quali¬ 
ties,  their  patient  endurance,  their  hopeful¬ 
ness  amid  crushing  burdens,  their  helpful¬ 
ness  and  strength,  the  common  round  of 


51 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


sorrows  that  make  us  brothers  all.  Soon 
the  people  who  had  been  so  long  in  awe  of 
his  genius  marked  the  change,  and  drew 
nearer  to  him.  He,  too,  felt  this  change 
consciously  and  gratefully. 

With  the  seed  of  humility  planted  anew 
in  his  soul,  his  work  grew  to  lovelier  and 
more  enduring  proportions.  He  had  been 
born  again  1 


i 


52 


BEFORE  DAWN 

Until  the  day  breathe,  and  the  shadows  flee  away. 

— Song  of  Songs 

He  had  spent  the  greater  part  of  the 
summer  vacation  in  Switzerland,  and  then, 
being  seized  by  a  desire  to  see  Poland, 
passed  several  weeks  on  its  hospitable  soil. 
He  visited  Cracow,  saw  its  salt-mines,  and 
was  on  his  way  back  to  Berlin. 

“  I  wonder,”  said  he  to  himself  while 
resting  one  evening  in  his  room  at  Mylius’ 
Hotel  in  Posen,  “  I  wonder  whether  I  have 
time  to  visit  the  professor’s  Jewish  friend, 
Rabbi  Kossman.  Somewhat  out  of  the 
way,  it  is  true,  but,  as  the  semester  does 
not  begin  before  the  first  of  November,  I 
can  spare  a  few  days  at  any  rate.  Let  me 
see.  He  lives  at  Ostrowo,  which  is  not 
very  far.  I  think  I’ll  start  to-morrow.  I 


53 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


would  like  to  meet  a  real  Jew.  I  have  not 
met  many,  and  it  would  certainly  please 
the  professor.” 

Arthur  Livingston  was  spending  his  last 
year  in  Europe  as  a  student  of  law,  and 
under  the  best  auspices — health,  youth, 
wealth,  and  good  spirits.  The  only  son  of 
a  New  York  banker,  after  graduating  from 
Harvard,  he  went  to  Berlin  to  continue  his 
studies  and  add  to  his  fund  of  experience. 
He  had  the  happy  knack  of  making  friends, 
for  his  genial  nature  shone  in  his  open 
countenance,  sparkled  in  his  glances,  and 
intensified  each  handclasp.  He  was  full 
of  high  ambitions  and  generous  resolves, 
and  life  was  a  rose-garden  with  birds  of 
song  on  every  bough.  He  drank  in  happi¬ 
ness  with  every  breath,  and  having  almost 
completed  his  work  abroad,  his  heavens 
were  unclouded  and  his  enthusiasm  un¬ 
bounded. 

*  *  *  *  *  * 


54 


BEFORE  DAWN 


It  was  early  in  the  evening  when  Liv¬ 
ingston  set  out  for  the  rabbi’s  dwelling, 
having  arrived  at  the  Ostrowo  station  an 
hour  or  two  earlier.  How  his  tall  form 
towered  above  the  diminutive  men  and 
women  he  met,  while  his  happy,  smiling 
countenance  contrasted  with  the  dark  and 
sterner  faces  that  passed  him  on  the  way. 
The  old  gable  roofs  frowned  upon  him, 
the  narrow  lanes  looked  threatening  at  his 
approach,  the  high  walls  of  convent  and 
cloister  were  almost  forbidding,  the  streets 
wore  an  ominous  look.  The  stars  alone 
seemed  to  him  to  be  in  a  friendly  mood. 
They  were  his  dearest  friends  in  all  his 
wanderings,  reminding  him  of  his  loved 
ones  at  home,  whose  bright  smiles  shone  in 
the  darkness  and  were  caught  up  by  the 
skies.  What  seems  distant  is  often  nearer 
to  us  than  what  is  close  at  our  side. 

Yes,  it  was  the  rabbi’s  dwelling  at  last, 
but  what  a  festive  gathering  in  the  open 


55 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


air!  Livingston  entered  the  garden,  when 
the  servant  had  ushered  him  in,  after  he 
had  presented  his  card  and  the  professor’s 
note  of  introduction.  There,  not  ten  feet 
distant,  was  a  bower  of  leaves  and  branches ; 
w7ithin  stood  a  table  covered  with  a  white 
cloth  and  sparkling  with  silver  dishes. 
Fruit  and  colored  lanterns  hung  from  the 
roof.  On  the  walls  were  pictures  of  bibli¬ 
cal  scenes.  At  first  he  was  inclined  to 
withdraw,  for  he  surely  was  trespassing 
upon  some  family  festivity.  Always  self- 
possessed,  Livingston  felt  here  curiously 
embarrassed.  But  the  white-haired  rabbi 
soon  relieved  him  of  all  timidity. 

“  How  do  you  do?  ”  he  exclaimed  in  the 
best  English  he  knew.  “  You  will  take  a 
seat  and  a  few  soup.  Ah,  don’t  laugh  out 
my  bad  English.” 

“  All  right,  sir.  Don’t  you  laugh  at  my 
poor  German,”  Livingston  replied,  “  and 
I’ll  keep  a  straight  countenance  when  you 


56 


BEFORE  DAWN 


essay  English;  but  I  understand  German 
very  well,  sir.” 

<(Ach  so!”  said  the  rabbi  smiling, 
“  well,  we  shall  get  along  comfortably 
then.” 

A  seat  next  to  the  rabbi  was  quickly  ar¬ 
ranged  for  the  American,  and  after  some 
inquiry  as  to  the  professor’s  health  and 
Livingston’s  travels  and  studies,  the  rabbi 
presented  him  to  his  wife  and  daughter 
and  the  assembled  guests. 

“  I  fear  I  have  disturbed  you  at  a  wed¬ 
ding,”  said  the  American,  scarcely  raising 
his  eyes  from  the  plate  of  soup,  for  the 
business  of  eating  and  drinking  had  already 
begun. 

“A  wedding!  My  dear  Mr.  Livings¬ 
ton,”  the  rabbi  exclaimed  amid  the  laughter 
of  the  company.  “  A  wedding!  Why,  it 
is  our  Festival  of  Tabernacles  to-night,  and 
we  have  gathered  in  our  Sukkah  in  memory 
of  olden  times.” 


57 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


“  Oh,  yes,  yes,  yes,”  hastily  rejoined  the 
American.  “  Of  course,  it  was  stupid  of 
me,  but  I  forgot  all  about  it.  I  remember 
now  that  I  did  read  in  the  Abendblatt  that 
to-night  was  a  Hebrew  festival.  I  am  so 
sorry  that  I  am  intruding.  And  yet — shall 
I  confess  it  ? — I  am  glad  to  be  with  you ;  for 
it  reminds  me  of  my  own  home  in  New 
York.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  we  have 
boughs  of  leaves  and  flowers  and  all  of 
that  except  at  Easter ;  but  your  kindly  tones, 
Herr  Doctor,  remind  me  of  my  father,  and 
the  happy  faces  of  your  family  recall  those 
of  my  own.”  His  voice  faltered  as  he 
spoke.  He  bowed  his  head,  but  quickly 
regained  his  self-control,  hoping  that  his 
emotion  had  escaped  notice. 

“  But,  my  dear  friend,”  said  the  rabbi, 
moved  by  the  warmth  of  feeling  in  the 
American’s  speech,  “  we  must  have  no  more 
talking.  Let  us  eat  first  and  talk  after¬ 
wards.”  And  turning  to  his  daughter,  he 


58 


BEFORE  DAWN 


added :  “  Clara,  my  Herzenskind ,  fill  Mr. 
Livingston’s  glass.”  The  order  was  cheer¬ 
fully  obeyed. 

“  And  now  silence  all.  Or,  if  you  like, 
I’ll  do  the  talking,”  said  the  rabbi  with  a 
roguish  glance  around. 

And  he  began  to  talk,  without  in  the  least 
impairing  his  digestion  or  that  of  his 
friends.  What  a  medley  of  topics  did  he 
touch  upon,  one  subject  suggesting  another 
in  an  endless  variety !  There  was  kindness 
in  every  word,  cheery  wit  in  every  sentence. 
His  fat  cheeks  shook,  as  anecdote  after 
anecdote  fell  from  his  lips,  and  the  rippling 
of  merry  laughter  formed  as  agreeable 
Tischmusik  as  Livingston  had  ever  heard. 

To  the  American  it  was  a  scene  from  the 
Arabian  Nights.  Its  novelty  and  charm 
wove  an  unaccountable  spell.  He  had 
never  before  broken  bread  with  a  Jewish 
family.  The  meaning  of  Tabernacles  was 
a  mystery  which  he  did  not  desire  to  have 


59 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


explained.  Some  of  the  words  employed 
by  the  rabbi  were  Hebrew,  and  therefore 
unintelligible  to  him.  The  lights,  the 
fragrance,  the  silver  goblets,  the  pictures  on 
the  wall,  the  embroidered  tapestry,  added 
to  the  quaintness  of  the  scene.  But  he 
hazarded  no  questions,  betrayed  no  uneasi¬ 
ness.  “  One  of  the  golden  half-hours  which 
are  flying  about  all  over  the  world  ”  had 
come  to  him,  and  he  enjoyed  it  to  the  ut¬ 
most.  The  rabbi,  whose  goodness  of  heart 
beamed  from  his  scintillating  spectacles; 
his  placidly-smiling  wife,  with  her  hair  just 
silvering  but  her  cheeks  still  rosy;  the 
daughter,  whose  features  shone  with  an 
unspeakable  beauty  as  she  raised  her  lumin¬ 
ous  eyes  for  a  moment  to  his  own,  and  in 
whose  looks  one  could  read  such  trustful¬ 
ness  and  repose — all  formed  a  family 
group  to  be  forever  photographed  on  his 
soul.  At  last  the  rabbi  ceased  his  talk; 
there  came  a  brief  silence,  and  soon  all 


60 


BEFORE  DAWN 


joined  in  prayer.  Livingston  insisted  upon 
covering  his  head,  too,  and  his  heart  spoke 
in  thankfulness  to  God,  although  no  words 
came  from  his  lips.  How  pleased  will  his 
people  be  when  they  receive  his  next  letter 
with  a  full  account  of  the  evening  at  the 
rabbi’s ! 

After  prayer  the  guests,  one  by  one,  de¬ 
parted,  and  Arthur  was  also  preparing  to 
go;  but  the  rabbi  would  not  hear  of  it. 

“  Stay  a  little  longer,  Mr.  Livingston. 
You  leave  Ostrowo  to-morrow  morning,  and 
I  do  want  to  ask  you  about  America.  Be¬ 
sides,  you  have  not  talked  at  all.  Are  you 
Americans  tongue-tied?” 

“  Tongue-tied?  Just  the  reverse,  I 
fancy,”  he  responded  with  a  light  laugh. 
“  I  am  very  fond  of  talking,  and  often  do 
not  know  when  to  stop.  It  was  largely  on 
this  account  that  I  have  been  so  silent,  but 
not  inattentive,”  and  he  let  his  eyes  uncon¬ 
sciously  rest  on  the  rabbi’s  daughter.  “  I 


5 


61 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


am  rather  glad  to  stay  a  little  longer  ” — 
and  now  he  thought  he  saw  a  grateful 
gleam  on  her  countenance — “  I  assure  you, 
for  I  never  met  a  rabbi  in  all  my  wander¬ 
ings,  and  it  is  a  pleasant  experience,  I  con¬ 
fess,  believe  me.” 

“Really  though!”  exclaimed  the  rabbi 
with  twinkling  glee.  “Really  though! 
But  a  truce  to  compliments,  young  man. 
Let  me  hear  about  America.  We  are  all 
impatient.  Come,  begin.” 

Mr.  Livingston  began.  He  told  about 
America’s  greatness  and  vastness,  its  cities 
and  plains,  its  mountains  and  seas.  He 
spoke  of  its  early  struggles  for  freedom, 
its  triumphs  in  the  sciences  and  art,  its 
superb  record  in  philanthropy  and  educa¬ 
tion.  He  dwelt  eloquently  on  the  war  of 
’6 1  and  the  matchless  courage  and  enthusi¬ 
asm  displayed  on  both  sides.  He  referred 
to  the  wonderful  progress  of  the  country, 
the  marvellous  inventiveness  of  the  people, 


62 


BEFORE  DAWN 


the  magnificent  palaces  of  trade,  asylums, 
churches,  colleges,  institutions  for  the  relief 
of  every  ill. 

“  Not  a  stone’s  throw  from  our  residence 
on  Madison  Avenue  is  Charity  Square. 
There,  facing  each  other  as  close  neighbors, 
are  the  asylums  and  hospitals  of  many 
creeds.  Your  Jewish  Hospital  is  one  of  the 
largest  and  best  in  the  entire  country,  and 
its  portals  are  open  to  all  without  distinc¬ 
tion  of  belief.  When  the  church  which  my 
family  attended  was  destroyed  not  so  long 
ago,  a  synagogue  was  offered  to  the  con¬ 
gregation  for  Sundays,  which  was  grate¬ 
fully  accepted.  Yes,  we  are  living  in  an 
heroic  age,  rabbi,”  continued  the  young 
man.  “  Ah,  how  proud  I  am  to  be  an 
American,  how  I  long  to  return  and  mingle 
in  the  joyous  stir  and  life  at  home !  And 
when  I  return,”  he  exclaimed,  while  his 
voice  deepened  with  emotion,  “  how  much 
I  hope  to  accomplish!  ” 


63 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


Then  he  told  them  of  his  dreams  and  as¬ 
pirations,  and  they  listened  in  silence.  With 
his  father’s  wealth  and  his  family’s  influ¬ 
ence  he  would  enter  political  life  after  a 
few  years’  experience  as  a  lawyer  and  de¬ 
vote  his  entire  energies  to  a  reform  of  par¬ 
ties  and  party  principles.  He  felt  confident 
that  his  motives  were  so  unselfish  and  his 
aims  so  lofty  that  he  would  readily  attain 
success  ;  and  then,  when  an  era  of  genuine 
political  reform  dawned,  he  would  retire 
from  the  field  and  devote  his  wealth  and 
activity  to  the  social  and  religious  better¬ 
ment  of  the  poor. 

How  Clara,  stirred  by  his  earnest  and 
impassioned  tones,  drank  in  every  word 
and  glance  !  She,  too,  had  longings,  vague 
and  unformulated  as  yet,  which  needed  only 
propitious  fate  to  transfer  them  from 
dreamland  into  reality.  As  she  listened, 
she  was  confident  that  the  noble,  generous 
youth  would  succeed.  Ah,  she  knew  not — 


64 


BEFORE  DAWN 


and  how  few  recognize  the  fact ! — that  life 
to  the  great  majority  is  but  a  rude  torso: 
there  may  be  wonderful  beauty  and  pro¬ 
portion  in  its  parts,  but  as  a  whole  it  is 
fragmentary  and  incomplete.  When  we 
are  young,  how  real  and  substantial  appears 
every  aspiration !  Happy  those  whose 
dreams  do  not  vanish,  even  when  the 
world’s  disillusions  and  disenchantments 
are  encountered ! 

“Heroic  age!  You  call  it  an  heroic 
age!”  exclaimed  the  rabbi  after  a  brief 
pause.  His  brow  was  stern,  and  his  voice 
lost  its  cheerfulness.  “  Why,  it  is  an  age 
of  the  furies  here  in  Poland.  But  yester¬ 
day  they  threw  stones  at  the  synagogue,  and 
violated  the  cemetery  at  Kalisch.  To-day 
they  may  commit  excesses  still  nearer,  and 
to-morrow  the  red  torch  may  wave  over 
our  heads.” 

“  What!  ”  exclaimed  Livingston.  “  You 
surely  are  jesting.  The  miscreants,  the 
savages !  ” 


65 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


“  Jesting,”  replied  the  rabbi  in  a  voice 
of  scorn.  “  God  forgive  me  this  happy  eve 
for  touching  on  such  scenes.  But  I  cannot 
be  deaf  to  the  agony  of  my  brethren.  In 
Hungary  they  bring  up  again  the  blood  ac¬ 
cusation;  in  Roumania  they  insolently 
repeat  the  cry  ‘  Drown  the  Jews  in  the 
Danube  ’ ;  in  Berlin  they  crowd  to  hear 
Henrici  utter  his  blasphemies ;  and  in  Rus¬ 
sia,  in  Russia  the  cup  of  sorrow  is  filled  to 
the  brim.  And  you  call  the  age  heroic !  ” 

“  I  mean  in  America  the  age  is  heroic,” 
Livingston  quickly  interrupted.  “  My 
country  is  a  land  of  hope;  Germany,  of 
despair.  I  have  met  more  dwarfs  and 
cripples  in  one  day  on  German  soil  than 
during  all  my  life  in  America.  But  is  it 
really  so,  Rabbi  Kossman?  Have  the  anti- 
Semitic  agitators  entered  Poland?  ” 

“  Yes,  and  spread  their  subtle  poison 
everywhere  until  the  air  is  charged  with  the 
elements  of  strife.  There  is  no  safety  for 


66 


BEFORE  DAWN 


Israel  until  you  Christians  all  the  world 
over  prove  your  gratitude  to  the  mother- 
religion  by  becoming  its  active  defenders 
from  cruel  calumny.  The  church  which  has 
done  so  much  to  persecute  us  must  prove 
our  protector  from  the  superstitions  which 
she  herself  has  sown.  She  must  excom¬ 
municate  the  so-called  Christians  who  per¬ 
secute  the  followers  of  a  religion  in  which 
Christianity’s  founder  was  born  and  reared. 
Then  would  the  age  become  truly  heroic, 
while  now — ” 

A  heavy  stone  whirled  through  the  air, 
and  fell  with  crushing  force  on  the  Suk- 
kah’s  light  roof.  There  came  from  with¬ 
out  a  cry  of  derision  and  the  sound  of  re¬ 
treating  footsteps.  Arthur  sprang  forward 
to  follow  the  dastardly  miscreants,  but  the 
rabbi  called  him  back. 

“  It  is  our  own  fault,”  he  said  hurriedly. 
“We  should  not  have  remained  in  the 
garden  until  so  late  an  hour.  Why,  it  is 


67 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


nearly  midnight.  Your  hotel  will  be  closed, 
I  fear,  unless  you  hurry,  and  I  doubt 
whether  you  know  the  way.” 

“  They  may  follow  him,”  whispered  the 
rabbi’s  wife.  “  Can  he  not  stay  with  us? 
There  is  Berthold’s  room,  unoccupied 
since  we  closed  our  dear  son’s  eyes 
forever.” 

“  My  wife  suggests,  Mr.  Livingston,” 
said  the  rabbi,  “  that  you  remain  with  us 
over  night.  You  may  be  followed,  if  you 
are  seen  leaving  the  garden,  and  may  easily 
miss  your  way  to  the  hotel.  We  have  a 
spare  room,  and  you  put  us  to  no  incon¬ 
venience.” 

“  Thank  you  a  thousand  times,  gracious 
madam,”  and  Arthur  bowed  to  the  rabbi’s 
wife.  “  I  fear  no  danger.” 

“  Do  stay,  Herr  Livingston,”  faltered 
Clara. 

“  I’ll  stay,  then,  dear  rabbi,  not  for  my 
sake,  but  for  your  own,”  Arthur  ex- 


68 


BEFORE  DAWN 


claimed  after  some  hesitation.  “  Perhaps 
the  scoundrels  may  return  before  dawn.’5 

They  withdrew  slowly  from  the  garden. 
The  rabbi  seized  the  lamp  from  the  Suk- 
kah  table,  which  had  not  been  injured  by 
the  falling  stone,  and  led  the  way,  his  wife 
following  him. 

“  Dismiss  your  fears,  liebes  Fraulein ” 
whispered  Arthur  to  Clara.  “  The  dawn 
will  soon  break;  it  is  even  now  as  bright 
as  day.” 

She  gazed  back  at  the  Sukkah,  upon 
which  the  moonbeam  rested  in  one  broad 
swath  of  splendor. 

“  How  beautiful!  how  beautiful!  ”  she 
repeated  with  a  sigh.  “  But  why,  ah,  why 
must  my  people  be  continually  persecuted  ?  ” 

“  Alas,  poor  child,”  he  might  have  an¬ 
swered  in  the  words  of  Hyperion,  “  Thou, 
too,  must  learn,  like  others,  that  the  sub¬ 
lime  mystery  of  Providence  goes  on  in  si¬ 
lence,  and  gives  no  explanation  of  itself, 


69 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


no  answer  to  our  impatient  questionings.” 

But  he  answered  not.  He  felt  too  pro¬ 
found  a  sadness.  He  could  only  clasp  her 
hand  and  press  it  to  his  lips,  as  they  passed 
within  the  silent  threshold. 

*  3(S  #  SfS  *  # 

It  was  not  long  before  Arthur  slept.  He 
had  resolved  to  keep  awake  lest  there 
should  be  an  assault  upon  the  house  before 
dawn,  and  for  a  time  his  eyelids  bravely 
resisted  the  first  approaches  of  drowsiness. 
He  quickly  went  over  the  scenes  of  the 
evening.  He  heard  the  rabbi’s  voice,  he 
saw  the  maiden’s  plaintive  countenance,  the 
Hebrew  hymns  rang  in  his  ears.  He 
thought,  too,  of  his  own  fireside,  and 
breathed  a  prayer  for  the  distant  loved 
ones,  being  seized  by  a  sudden  inexplicable 
longing  to  be  with  them  once  more.  Then, 
despite  all  his  efforts,  his  eyelids  closed,  and 
he  sank  fast  asleep,  as  he  framed  just  as 
fervent  a  prayer  for  the  rabbi  and  his  per¬ 
secuted  people. 


70 


THE  trendele: 

I  will  a  round,  unvarnished  tale  deliver. 

— Othello. 

Winter  in  Moravia.  One  shivers  at 
the  thought.  The  beautiful  garden  at 
Kremsier  shivered,  too,  as  December  ap¬ 
proached;  and  the  trees,  despoiled  of  their 
foliage,  grew  sad  and  discontented.  The 
flowers  grieved  under  their  covering  of 
straw;  the  birds  had  all  their  song  frozen 
out  of  them.  The  clouds  were  leaden  and 
sullen.  The  little  rifts  of  blue  were  re¬ 
proachful  in  the  heavens.  Winter  defiantly 
clothed  house  and  field  in  snow.  The  first 
flush  of  spring,  the  ripened  beauty  of  sum¬ 
mer,  the  softened  loveliness  of  autumn 
crowned  Kremsier  in  such  radiant  colors 
that  now  the  monotonous  sighing  of  the 
December  breeze  made  all  hearts  despond¬ 
ent,  as  good  old-fashioned  people  strove  to 


71 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


attain  a  certain  degree  of  warmth  by  hug¬ 
ging  the  high  porcelain  stove,  which  re¬ 
sembled  a  tombstone,  and  sipping  coffee 
five  times  a  day. 

The  trees,  the  hills,  the  roofs,  the  clouds, 
the  fences,  the  fields,  were  all  white ;  but  in 
the  Beth  ha-Midrash  there  sat  as  rosy  a 
student  as  ever  learned  the  Talmud — 
such  a  rosy  student  that  all  the  girls  in  town 
felt  an  irresistible  desire  to  kiss  his  cheeks 
and  ascertain  whether  the  color  was  a  nat¬ 
ural  tint.  Fortunately,  the  Kremsier  maid¬ 
ens  had  hitherto  not  attempted  to  carry  out 
such  a  high-handed  proceeding,  which 
would  have  only  made  those  cheeks  a  thou¬ 
sand  times  rosier  than  ever.  Yet,  would  you 
believe  it? — such  are  the  uncertain  depths 
of  a  student’s  nature — the  rosiness  of  his 
cheeks  had  but  little  influence  on  his  moral 
character,  whose  hopelessness  in  one  par¬ 
ticular  baffled  the  good  rabbi,  and  puzzled 
all  the  Jews  of  the  place,  except  his  fellow- 
students. 


72 


/ 


THE  TRENDELE 


His  bump  of  mischievousness  was  ab¬ 
normally  developed,  and  consequently  he 
was  always  in  a  state  of  effervescence.  He 
could  not  remain  at  rest,  he  must  always 
plunge  into  some  fresh  excitement.  It  was 
he  who  was  inexhaustible  in  witticisms,  in 
odd  surprises,  in  extemporaneous  poeti¬ 
zing,  in  startling  items  from  Berlin,  Jerusa¬ 
lem,  or  Nicolsburg.  It  was  he  whose 
impulsiveness  and  roguishness  were  the 
admiration  of  a  great  many  impressionable 
people  in  Kremsier,  including  Rosa,  the 
rabbi’s  daughter.  Now,  if  his  heart  had 
contained  a  single  atom  of  malice,  the  stu¬ 
dent  would  not  have  been  so  universal  a 
favorite.  Had  he  been  petty,  selfish,  covet¬ 
ous,  lying,  the  maidens  of  Kremsier  would 
never  have  bowed  so  gracefully  to  him,  and 
the  eyes  of  the  rabbi’s  daughter  would 
never  have  sparkled  so  brightly  when  he 
passed.  But  he  was  at  heart  a  good,  earn¬ 
est  fellow  of  nineteen,  and  if  from  morn 


73 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


till  eve  his  spirits  never  lost  their  gayety 
and  exuberance,  nobody  in  the  whole 
town — not  the  rabbi,  not  old  Klaus  the 
shoemaker,  not  Schmidt  the  tailor,  not 
even  Rosa,  the  rabbi’s  daughter — knew 
that  many  a  night  the  pillow  of  the  student 
was  tear-stained,  as  he  thought  of  his 
mother  in  a  little  village  many  hundred 
miles  distant;  nobody  knew  how  fervently 
this  merry  student  could  pray  for  divine 
support.  The  same  lips  which  were  ready 
for  a  jest  even  in  the  little  synagogue,  and 
scoffed  at  the  long  chants  and  protracted 
reading-pieces  in  the  prayer-book,  in  the 
quiet  evening  hours,  in  the  solitude  of  his 
attic  room,  what  devout  prayers  could 
those  very  lips  frame  ! 

What  was  the  student  doing  in  the  dusk? 
He  was  not  studying.  The  folios  were 
closed.  He  was  not  writing,  not  a  sheet 
of  paper  was  spread  before  him.  What 
was  he  planning?  What  new  mischief  was 


74 


THE  TRENDELE 


in  process  of  evolution?  And  this  day  be¬ 
fore  the  happy  feast  of  Hanukkah,  when 
there  was  vacation  for  the  students,  why 
should  he  remain  in  the  Beth  ha-Midrash 
this  of  all  afternoons  in  the  world? 

The  student  was  hard  at  work  construct¬ 
ing  a  trendele f  that  was  all.  Such  an  inno¬ 
cent  amusement,  was  it  not?  A  little  four- 
cornered  top,  nothing  more.  Could  any¬ 
thing  be  simpler?  In  his  hand  he  held  a 
piece  of  hard  box-wood,  to  which  he  was 
giving  deft  touches  and  sundry  planings 
with  the  aid  of  a  large,  unpoetical  knife; 
and  he  was  working  with  such  vehemence 
that  his  cheeks  grew  rosier  each  moment. 
He  sang  a  little  song,  which  did  not  quiet 
his  nerves  or  steady  the  pulsations  of  his 
heart: 

I  wish  I  were  Rabbi  Akiba, 

Or  Rabbi  Zakkai’s  brave  son; 

I  would  merrily  shoulder  my  knapsack, 

And  buy  my  true  sweetheart  a  bun. 

He  repeated  many  times  these  expressive 


75 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


words  to  a  weird  melody,  when  suddenly 
he  ceased,  and  his  cheeks  grew  pale.  His 
knife  fell  to  the  floor,  and  it  was  with  the 
utmost  difficulty  that  he  held  the  trendele 
in  his  hand.  A  form  had  crossed  the  street, 
that  was  all.  A  little  hand  was  knocking 
at  the  door — surely  a  trifling  occurrence  to 
make  the  student’s  knife  fall. 

“  David,”  said  the  maiden,  “  to-night 
is  Hanukkah.”  She  looked  at  him  as  she 
spoke. 

“  Excuse  me,”  replied  the  student. 
“  Judaism  is  indeed  in  a  state  of  decay,  if  a 
student  needs  to  be  informed  when  the 
Feast  of  Dedication  makes  its  appear¬ 
ance.”  And  he  scowled  at  her,  a  kind  of 
scowl  made  up  for  this  time  only. 

“  Quite  true,  David,”  she  quietly  an¬ 
swered.  “  But  I  am  the  rabbi’s  daughter, 
sir.”  And  she  actually  tossed  her  head  in 
derision,  a'  kind  of  toss  made  up  for  this 
time  only. 


76 


THE  TRENDELE 


There  was  a  short  pause. 

“  You  are  the  dreadfullest  student,” 
said  the  maiden,  with  all  the  power  at  her 
command;  “you  are  the  dreadfullest  stu¬ 
dent  that  ever  studied  the  Talmud.” 

“  And  you,”  answered  the  student  hotly, 
“  you — there  was  never  in  the  whole  world 
such  a  rabbi’s  daughter  as  you  are.” 

David  seemed  much  eased  after  this 
ebullition,  for  he  leisurely  stooped,  and 
picked  up  the  knife. 

“  O  David,”  said  Rosa  in  a  gentle  voice, 
noticing  the  trendeU  for  the  first  time. 
“  Papa  would  like  you  to  come  and  spend 
the  evening  with  us.  We  all  know,”  she 
continued  quickly,  “  we  all  know  that  you 
are  alone  here,  and  it  would  please  us  so 
much,  were  you  to  visit  us  to-night.”  And 
before  the  student  had  time  to  answer,  she 
slipped  out  of  the  room,  and  was  across 
the  street. 

In  a  moment  David  comprehended  the 


6 


77 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


situation,  and  quickly  ran  into  the  street, 
yelling:  “  I  shall  come  with  the  trendele” 
in  such  alarming  tones  that  the  Shammash 
thought  that  the  lad  was  bewitched.  And 
for  once  the  man  was  right. 

Then  David  quickly  returned  to  the  Beth 
ha-Midrash,  and  went  to  work  with  re¬ 
newed  energy  on  the  trendele ,  which  gradu¬ 
ally,  sad  to  relate,  assumed  an  unorthodox 
appearance.  A  grayish-looking  substance 
was  inserted  in  one  of  the  sides.  Did  the 
student  intend  to  convert  the  trendele  into 
a  powder  magazine?  Instead,  too,  of  the 
ordinary  Hebrew  lettering  upon  its  four 
sides,  the  student,  in  accordance  with  the 
spirit  of  the  age,  abolished  the  Hebrew 
as  the  language  of  the  trendeley  and  wrote 
four  German  words,  upon  the  elaboration 
of  one  of  which,  a  simple  word  of  five  let¬ 
ters,  he  bestowed  unusual  care.  Then  he 
placed  it  tenderly  in  his  pocket,  and  said  the 
afternoon  prayer  with  fervor.  After  which 


78 


THE  TRENDELE 


David  began  to  hum :  “  I  wish  I  were 
Rabbi  Akiba,”  to  the  tune  of  a  quick  polka, 
and  sallied  home  with  his  cheeks  so  rosy 
that  little  Julka,  the  rabbi’s  niece,  who 
passed  the  student  on  the  street,  was  con¬ 
vinced  that  they  were  painted.  For  which 
opinion,  rather  loudly  expressed,  the  ex¬ 
ultant  Miss  Julka  received  a  severe  repri¬ 
mand  from  her  cousin  Rosa. 

sjs  if:  Jjs  *  *  sfc 

When  David  entered  the  rabbi’s  home 
that  evening,  he  found  the  sitting-room  well 
occupied  by  a  number  of  the  rabbi’s  rela¬ 
tives  and  acquaintances.  Most  of  them 
he  knew,  and  he  greeted  them  with  a  smile. 
But  a  few  of  the  assembled  guests  were 
strangers  to  him,  and  the  introductions  were 
quickly  made. 

“  These  are  my  cousins,”  said  Rosa, 
turning  to  a  troop  of  little  ones  in  the  cor¬ 
ner.  “  Julka,  Selma,  Jeannette,  Nanna, 

Max,  Berthold — what  a  troop  of  them! 

79 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


And  these,  of  course,  you  know,”  pointing 
to  a  troop  in  another  corner. 

“  I  believe  I  have  the  honor  of  a  pre¬ 
vious  acquaintance  with  your  innumerable 
brothers  and  sisters,”  he  said,  as  he  ad¬ 
vanced  to  the  group,  and  shook  hands 
with  all.  There  was  laughing  Bona,  and 
fair-haired  Jctta,  and  black-eyed  Schoen- 
del,  and  dimpled  Esther,  and  pouting  Ber¬ 
tha,  and  four  very  small  boys  with  large, 
hanging  cheeks,  so  fat  and  full.  The  boys 
were  beginning  to  be  very  sleepy,  when 
the  entrance  of  David  enlivened  the  quar¬ 
tette.  And  soon  David  was  pounced  upon 
by  the  whole  company  of  children,  im¬ 
prisoned  in  a  corner,  and  condemned  to  tell 
stories  and  invent  games,  until  the  little 
ones  were  so  uproarious  that  even  the  rabbi 
and  his  guests  ceased  their  talk,  and  watched 
the  scene. 

To-night  the  student  excelled  himself. 
In  the  short  space  of  half  an  hour  he  fought 


80 


THE  TRENDELE 


all  the  battles  of  the  Maccabees,  overthrew 
the  Graeco-Syrian  forces  without  the  loss 
of  a  single  man,  entered  Jerusalem, 
cleansed  the  temple,  found  the  magic  cruse 
of  oil,  lit  the  lights,  sang  the  Hanukkah 
hymn,  and  ended  with  giving  a  caricature 
of  Antiochus  Epiphanes  by  binding  a  white 
handkerchief  around  his  head  and  raising 
his  eyebrows  and  sinking  his  jaws.  He 
could  never  have  achieved  all  his  successes 
had  he  not  been  powerfully  aided  by  the 
rabbi’s  four  fat-cheeked  sons,  whom  he 
addressed  as  brothers  of  Judas  Macca- 
baeus.  In  his  desire  to  hold  fast  to  historic 
truth,  he  almost  came  to  grief.  He  made 
cousin  Max  represent  the  elephant  which 
was  to  crush  the  heroic  Maccabee,  aged 
two  years,  and  Max  played  the  crushing 
part  so  well  that  the  Maccabee  raised  an 
unearthly  yell,  and  the  little  girls  almost 
shrieked  in  ecstasy.  But  luckily  no  bones 
were  broken,  and  a  piece  of  mohnkuchen 


81 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


quieted  the  nerves  of  the  little  hero. 

Half  an  hour  more  passed,  the  little 
ones  had  been  sent  to  bed,  more  guests  had 
entered,  for  the  most  part  light-hearted 
young  people. 

A  slight  pause  ensued,  when  the  rabbi 
turned  to  David  and  said:  “  Come  now, 
David,  you  have  trifled  enough.  Let  us 
have  something  earnest.  Is  that  all  you 
learn  at  the  Beth  ha-Midrash — children’s 
games?  ” 

“  My  dear  rabbi,  it  does  appear  so  to 
me — the  Talmud  is  in  a  large  measure  a 
children’s  game,  and  thank  God  for  it. 
Thank  God,  rabbi,  that  our  sages  could 
enter  into  the  discussion  of  the  weightiest 
social  and  ethical  questions  with  the  light¬ 
heartedness,  but  not  light-headedness,  of 
children.  Thank  God  that  they  had  not  yet 
become  entirely  men  and  women  of  the 
world,  but  retained  a  certain  joyousness  of 
childhood,  which  made  them  listen  with 


82 


THE  TRENDELE 


eagerness  to  a  play  on  words,  a  parable,  a 
legend,  a  soul-inspiring  tale.” 

“  David  is  right,  friends,  I  also  say  with 
him:  Thank  God,”  the  rabbi  said.  “  The 
Talmud  is  in  a  large  measure  a  children’s 
game.  The  old  rabbis,  despite  troublous 
times,  talked  often  like  innocent  children, 
and  preserved  a  childlikeness  of  disposition 
which  will  prove  more  immortal  than  many 
law  principles  which  they  spun.  Sometimes 
I  wish  that  subtle  element  were  to-day  more 
prevalent.  We  Jews  are  losing — many 
have  lost — the  old  birthright  of  our  race — 
honest  simplicity  of  life  and  worship.  When 
the  Holy  One,  blessed  be  He,  summons  us 
to  His  presence,  we  shall  find  how  worthless 
are  trifles  of  ritual  to  which  most  of  us  at¬ 
tach  such  importance,  how  absolutely  insig¬ 
nificant  is  the  length  or  shortness  of  the 
prayer,  the  color  of  the  fresco,  the  position 
of  the  seat,  in  comparison  with  the  exer¬ 
cise  of  the  gentler  and  lowlier  virtues  of 
honesty,  simplicity,  purity.” 

83 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


“  Take  the  trendele ,  rabbi,”  said  David, 
who  could  not  be  serious  more  than  five 
minutes.  “  Consider  the  trendele,”  he  con¬ 
tinued,  “and  be  wise.  Why,  only  the  other 
day  I  found  a  curious  book  in  the  library. 
It  was  called  ‘  Tractate  Hanukkah.’  I 
read  it,  and  discovered  that  it  was  the  long- 
missing  fragment  of  the  Talmud,  whose 
loss  caused  our  revered  teachers,  Rabbis 
Zera  and  Jeremiah,  to  shed  copious  tears. 
I  think  that  I  can  give  a  short  sermon  on 
the  third  chapter,  Perek  trendele,  if  you 
would  like  to  hear  it.”  And  without  wait¬ 
ing  for  any  invitation  David  began,  using 
his  outstretched  arm  and  finger,  and  croon¬ 
ing  the  words  in  the  traditional  way. 

“  All  people  are  obliged  to  turn  the 
trendele  on  Hanukkah,  except  babies,  poor 
widows,  and  lovers.  Now,  asks  the  Ge- 
mara,  we  read  in  another  Mishnah  that  all 
people  are  obliged  to  celebrate  Hanukkah, 
except  babies,  poor  widows,  and  lovers.  I 


84 


THE  TRENDELE 


might  have  thought  that  this  Mishnah  was 
included  in  the  other  Mishnah.  No,  an¬ 
swers  Rabbi  Ulla,  for  that  very  reason  it 
is  stated  expressly  in  the  Mishnah.  Per¬ 
haps  some  one  might  say:  That  is  all 
right  so  far  as  lighting  the  candles  is  con¬ 
cerned,  but  in  regard  to  the  trendele ,  how 
shall  we  know  who  are  exempt  from  turn¬ 
ing  it? 

For  that  very  reason  it  is  stated  in  our 
Mishnah.  Rabbi  Abba,  in  the  name  of 
Rabbi  Johanan,  in  the  name  of  Rabbi 
Hiyya,  in  the  name  of  Rabbi  Saul,  says: 
About  poor  widows  and  lovers  I  can  very 
well  understand  the  Mishnah,  but  how 
about  babies?  There  is  no  difficulty,  says 
the  Tanna  Kamma.  Once  upon  a  time,  at 
the  house  of  Ben  Bag  Bag,  a  little  baby, 
turning  the  trendele,  swallowed  it  and  died. 
Hence  babies  are  exempt  from  turning  the 
trendele.  And  poor  widows?  They  are 
exempt  because  of  Elisha  and  the  poor 


85 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


widow’s  cruse  of  oil.  That  is  all  right 
so  far  as  lights  are  concerned,  but  the 
trendele,  why?  Because,  says  Rabbah 
bar  bar  Hana,  because  the  trendele  may 
remind  her  of  the  distaff  by  which  she  earns 
her  bread.  And  lovers?  Why  are  lovers 
exempt  from  turning  the  trendele  ?  ” 

David  paused  a  moment  to  recover  his 
breath,  and,  glancing  around,  saw  that 
everybody  was  interested. 

“  Why  are  they  exempt?  Lovers,  says 
Rav,  are  the  children  of  God.  As  God 
is  exempt  from  turning  the  trendele,  so  are 
lovers  exempt.  The  reasons  which  the 
Gemara  gives  are  not  very  satisfactory.  I 
find  a  better  explanation  in  the  Rosh  *  who 
relates  the  following  story.  It  happened 
once  on  a  Hanukkah  eve  that  a  number  of 
young  people  were  spinning  the  trendele, 
when  the  lights  grew  dim,  and  a  Bath  Kol 

*R.  Asher  b.  Jehiel,  a  famous  rabbi  of  the  Middle 
Ages. 


86 


THE  TRENDELE 


was  heard  to  say:  If  the  trendele  falls 
on  the  same  word  twice,  there  will  be  a 
broken  heart;  if  thrice,  a  funeral;  if  four 
times,  a  wedding.  As  our  sages  wished 
to  discountenance  all  superstition,  they  sum¬ 
marily  exempted  lovers  from  turning  the 
trendele.  So  far  the  Rosh .  But,  rabbi, 
as  we  are  not  superstitious  in  our  day,  I 
would  like  to  make  a  Takkanah  for  the 
good  of  the  universe.  Let  young  people 
turn  the  trendele ,  and  let  us  see  what  may 
happen.” 

And  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  the 
company  gathered  around  the  table,  and 
soon  the  rabbi’s  trendele  with  its  four  He¬ 
brew  words,  was  set  in  motion.  All  the  com¬ 
pany  in  turn  tried  their  fate,  but  in  no  case 
had  the  trendele  for  two  successive  times 
fallen  on  the  same  lettered  side.  There 
remained  now  only  Rosa  and  David. 

“  Why,  rabbi,”  said  David,  with  a 
feigned  look  of  surprise,  u  your  trendele 


87 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


is  unlawful.  See,  the  point  is  dull,  and 
according  to  R.  Moses  Isserles  in  our  rab¬ 
binical  code,  Orah  Hayyim,  page  992b,  a 
trendele  with  a  dull  point  is  worse  than  un¬ 
lawful;  it  is  unclean.  Luckily  I  have 
brought  another  one  with  me,”  and  he 
hastily  threw  the  rabbi’s  trendele  on  the 
floor.  “  Now  then,”  he  continued  writh 
heightened  color,  while  all  gazed  at  him, 
except  Rosa,  whose  look  was  downcast; 
“  thus  I  trample  on  the  authority  of  the 
Talmud.”  And  he  turned  his  trendele , 
which  fell  once,  twice,  three  times,  four 
times,  on  the  same  simple  word,  “  Liebe.” 

“  Come,  Rosa,”  said  the  youth,  with  a 
loud  laugh,  “it  is  your  turn  now.”  And 
the  maiden  timidly  essayed  her  skill.  The 
trendele  for  the  first  time  fell  on  “  Liebe.” 
For  the  second  time  its  fall  was  on  the  same 
word. 

“  A  broken  heart,  David,”  she  whis¬ 
pered,  while  her  cheek  blanched. 


88 


THE  TRENDELE 


“No,  dearest;  make  two  more  trials,” 
he  said  in  a  very  low  voice,  just  low  enough 
to  be  heard  by  her  only.  A  third  time,  and 
it  was  “  Liebe,”  and  a  fourth  time  the  same 
word. 

****** 

Many  years  have  passed  since  that  night. 
The  huppah  has  often  been  called  into 
requisition,  but  never  did  the  red  canopy 
clothe  youth  and  maiden  in  a  rosier  glow 
than  when  David  and  Rosa  stood  to  receive 
the  rabbi’s  blessing  as  man  and  wife. 
Many  years  have  passed  since  then,  and  the 
good  old  rabbi  lies  at  rest  in  God’s  Acre, 
under  the  snow,  in  blessed  peace.  Rosa 
has  had  numerous  opportunities  to  assure 
her  cousin  Julka  that  David’s  cheeks  were 
not  painted;  but  David — the  natural  result 
of  his  talmudic  erudition — has  never  told 
that  the  trendele  was  loaded. 


89 


THE  CHILDREN’S  GIFT 


Out  of  the  mouth  of  babes  and  sucklings  hast  Thou 
founded  strength. 


— Psalms . 


“  I  tell  you,  Rabbi  Hopeful,  you  can 
say  what  you  like,  Judaism  is  dying  out.” 

“  Is  that  your  opinion,  Mr.  Blanket?  ” 
rejoined  the  rabbi,  with  a  quiet  twinkle  in 
his  eye. 

“  Yes,  sir.  That  is  my  opinion  in  sober 
earnest,”  and  Mr.  Blanket  gazed  solemnly 
into  the  rabbi’s  smiling  countenance. 

“  My  dear  fellow,  you  are  mistaken,  en¬ 
tirely  mistaken,”  said  the  rabbi,  with  the 
least  little  tremor  in  his  voice. 

“  I  don’t  want  to  contradict  a  man  of 
your  learning  and  experience,  rabbi;  but 
you  don’t  know  the  current  of  public 
thought.  You  live  in  your  library.  You 
associate  with  the  select  few.  You  have 


90 


THE  CHILDREN’S  GIFT 


little  idea  of  the  immense  change  in  Jewish 
sentiment.  The  spirit  of  the  age  is  making 
gigantic  progress,  and  neither  you  nor  Mrs. 
Partington  can  check  its  onward  flow !  ” 

“  The  spirit  of  the  age,  the  spirit  of  the 
age,”  said  the  rabbi  in  a  musing  tone.  “  I 
have  heard  that  phrase  before.  It  is  a  com¬ 
mon  expression,  I  rather  think.  But  it 
doesn’t  terrify  me  at  all.  What  is  your 
spirit  of  the  age,  anyway?  ” 

“  The  spirit  of  the  age,”  said  Mr. 
Blanket,  waving  his  hand  wildly  and  gestic¬ 
ulating  agonizingly,  “  the  spirit  of  the  age, 
sir,  is — the  Spirit  of  the  Age.” 

“  Cant,  Mr.  Blanket,  mere  cant,”  Rabbi 
Hopeful  exclaimed. 

“  Not  at  all,  sir.  Not  at  all,  my  dear 
friend.  Let  me  tell  you,  we  are  living  in 
a  different  age  and  wrestling  with  different 
conditions.” 

“  Yes,  yes,  yes,  that  may  be  true,  but  you 
forget  that  the  difference  is  largely  exter- 


91 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


nal.  Love  and  faith  and  hope  have  not 
changed.  The  eternities  of  life  vary  not 
from  one  age  to  another.” 

“  Come,  rabbi,  you  are  preaching,  and 
have  gone  off  the  track.  I  hold  that  the 
Jews  are  fast  degenerating,  that  Judaism 
has  become  a  mere  shell  of  customs,  that 
our  holiest  laws  are  neglected  and  despised, 
and  that  within  a  few  decades  our  religion 
will  have  disappeared  from  American  He¬ 
brews  of  any  culture  at  all.  That  is  my 
opinion  bluntly  expressed.” 

“  So  that  is  your  opinion,  is  it?  ”  re¬ 
peated  the  rabbi.  “  I  always  thought  that 
you  had  more  common  sense.  Why,  it 
seems  to  me  that  just  the  reverse  is  true.” 

“  Why,  rabbi,  you  must  be  dreaming!  ” 
“  Dreaming?  No.  Wide  awake,  man. 
Because  you  have  allowed  Judaism  to  die 
out  in  your  heart  and  life,  you  fancy  your 
neighbor  has  the  same  disease.  I  find  im¬ 
provement  instead  of  degeneracy,  activity 


92 


THE  CHILDREN’S  GIFT 


where  was  formerly  stagnation,  knowledge 
where  ignorance  prevailed.  The  community 
is  doing  more  than  it  ever  has  done  before. 
Our  leaders  are  more  energetic,  our  people 
more  generous.  A  nobler  and  a  higher  im¬ 
pulse  thrills  us,  we  feel  more  keenly  the 
need  of  union,  and  are  more  responsive  to 
the  claims  of  a  common  brotherhood. 
Only  the  other  day,  Mr.  Blanket,  a  rabbi  in 
one  of  our  sister-cities  became  ill,  and  a 
number  of  his  colleagues  of  other  cities, 
many  of  whom  do  not  hold  the  same  views 
as  the  sufferer,  volunteered  to  occupy  his 
pulpit  in  rotation  during  his  absence,  to  keep 
alive  the  Jewish  spirit  in  his  congregation. 
I  call  that  genuine  progress.” 

“  But  do  you  really  mean  to  say 
that  there  is  improvement?  ”  and  Mr. 
Blanket’s  wide-open  eyes  shone. 

“  Aye,  that  I  do.  On  every  side  I  note 
it.  Restoration,  reconstruction  is  marching 
on.  The  heart  of  the  people  is  sound,  and 


7 


93 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


they  will  range  themselves  under  the  old 
banner  at  last.  Don’t  be  impatient,  that 
is  all.” 

“  But,  Rabbi  Hopeful — ” 

“  Look  here,  Mr.  Blanket.  I  am  in  a 
positive  mood  to-night.  Sometimes,  I  con¬ 
fess,  I  have  my  doubts  and  misgivings. 
Our  ancestors  left  us  a  good  deal  of  litter, 
and  to  clear  it  away  is  a  task  of  no  little 
difficulty.  There  is  much  bungling  in  con¬ 
sequence.  Some  are  a  century  behind  the 
age,  and  some  a  century  in  advance.  But 
now  and  then  joy-bells  sound  unmistak¬ 
ably; — to  change  the  metaphor — I  see 
tiny  birds  fluttering  about,  and  catch  sight 
of  a  spar  or  piece  of  straw  which  points  that 
land  is  nigh.  Such  a  little  bird  is  here  this 
moment.” 

“  Where?  ”  exclaimed  Mr.  Blanket,  “  I 
don’t  see  any  cage.” 

“  Oh,  you  should  have  more  imagina¬ 
tion,  man.  Here  is  the  bird,”  and  the 


94 


THE  CHILDREN’S  GIFT 


rabbi  opened  the  drawer  in  his  book-case, 
and  took  out  a  small  roll  of  manuscript. 

“  Is  that  a  poem,  Rabbi  Hopeful?  ”  Mr. 
Blanket  inquired  in  feeble,  faint  tones,  and 
with  the  anxious  air  of  a  patient  who  is  in 
doubt  whether  his  illness  is  jaundice  or 
yellow  fever. 

“  Yes,  it  is  a  poem  in  prose;  I  am  going 
to  read  it  to  you.” 

“  Is  it  original?  ” 

“  Well, — yes.  The  facts  have  come 
under  my  own  observation.  Here  goes.” 
And  the  rabbi  began  to  read. 

I 

The  Sabbath  afternoon  service  was  over, 
and  hundreds  of  boys  and  girls,  with  a 
sprinkling  of  older  folks,  issued  from  the 
synagogue.  Some  formed  little  groups 
along  the  avenue,  and  others  walked  quietly 
in  the  bright  Sabbath  sunshine,  or  chatted 
gaily  about  this,  that,  and  everything. 


95 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


What  had  the  rabbi  preached  about 
that  Sabbath  afternoon?  Yet  he  rarely 
preached:  he  generally  talked.  He  used 
to  say  that  God  never  exclaimed  to  Moses : 
“  Preach  to  the  children  of  Israel,”  but 
usually  “  speak  to  them,”  or  “  say  to 
them  ” — that  is  talk  to  them — as  if  God 
rather  feared  that  the  Israelites  then  as 
now  were  not  especially  fond  of  preach¬ 
ments.  And  so  the  good  rabbi  spoke  that 
afternoon  of  the  coming  of  Hanukkah,  its 
history  and  meaning  to  Young  Israel,  and 
the  ever-continuing  battle  which  the  Jew 
must  wage  against  influences  which  would 
make  him  forget  and  betray  his  religion. 
He  spoke,  too,  of  its  sweet  associations  in 
the  olden  times,  when  Israel,  a  poor,  de¬ 
spised  people,  used  to  warm  itself  by  the 
light  of  so  cheerful  a  feast,  and  when  old 
and  young  would  celebrate  it  in  joyfulness, 
and  love,  and  charity. 

“  I  often  think,”  the  rabbi  said,  “  that 


96 


THE  CHILDREN’S  GIFT 


those  to-day  who  give  up  so  simple  and  in¬ 
spiring  a  festival,  and  those  who  gradually 
allow  no  Menorah,  no  Jewish  custom  or 
ceremony,  to  cheer  and  warm  their  feel¬ 
ings,  act  very  much  like  a  certain  sage  in 
the  Talmud.” 

“  Won’t  you  tell  us  about  him?  ”  came 
a  shrill  voice  from  his  audience.  They 
were  in  the  habit  of  interrupting  him  now 
and  then  by  such  questions,  and  he  rather 
liked  it,  as  it  showed  their  interest. 

“  Why,  of  course  I  will,”  and  the  rabbi 
smiled  in  the  pulpit. 

Do  not  be  horrified  at  the  idea  of  a  rabbi 
smiling  in  the  pulpit.  Why  not?  Why 
should  not  a  rabbi  smile?  Do  you  expect 
him  to  be  impervious  to  sympathy?  When 
the  humor  strikes  him,  let  him  laugh  a 
cheery,  hearty  laugh;  and  if  his  ecclesias¬ 
tical  robes  and  dignity  interfere  with  the 
outburst,  let  him  cast  aside  his  ecclesiastical 
robes  and  dignity  and  preach  as  a  man  to 


97 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


his  people.  They  require  the  frank,  simple, 
hearty  utterance  from  the  heart  to  the 
heart. 

When  the  rabbi  smiled,  the  children 
smiled  too.  And  the  Sabbath  angels  who 
hovered  near — if  they  knew  their  duty — 
must  have  smiled  as  well. 

The  rabbi  then  told  them  the  legend  of 
Onias,  the  Rip  Van  Winkle  of  the  Talmud, 
who  used  to  avoid  the  society  of  his  people, 
and  court  solitude.  He  would  leave  his 
town,  and  take  long  walks  by  himself,  and 
never  associate  with  his  friends.  And  one 
day  he  slept,  and  did  not  wake  up  for  sev¬ 
enty  years. 

“  But  why  didn’t  they  send  the  police¬ 
man  after  him?  ”  inquired  a  little  girl,  who 
had  never  taken  off  her  gaze  from  the  rabbi. 

And  then  he  explained  how  a  wall  of 
stones  arose  around  Onias  as  he  slept,  and 
no  one  could  tell  where  he  had  gone  to. 
And  when  he  awoke,  he  knew  no  one,  and 


98 


THE  CHILDREN’S  GIFT 


no  one  knew  him :  so  many  years  had 
passed.  If  he  had  mingled  more  with  his 
brethren,  they  would  not  have  forgotten 
him.  And  so  he  prayed  for  death,  and 
died  at  last  of  a  broken  heart. 

The  rabbi  went  on  to  show  that  those 
who  kept  aloof  from  their  religion  and  its 
observances  gradually  fell  asleep  and  were 
forgotten.  And  when  they  awoke,  it  was 
too  late;  they  found  that  their  world  had 
advanced  without  them.  He  closed  with 
urging  the  children  to  display  now  their 
sympathies  for  whatever  was  good  and 
pure  and  beautiful  in  their  religion  and  the 
life  of  the  day. 

“  Say,  girls,”  exclaimed  Florrie  Hart, 
as  she  and  three  of  her  friends  were  near¬ 
ing  her  home.  “  I  have  an  idea.” 

“  Preserve  it  by  all  means  in  syrup,”  ex¬ 
claimed  Maud  Pinner. 

“  Wrap  it  in  wool,”  shouted  Nellie  Levy. 

“  Let’s  hear  it  by  all  means,”  added 
Sophie  Strauss. 


99 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


“  Did  you  ever  go  to  a  hospital,  girls?  ” 

“  No,”  was  the  answer. 

“  Well,  then,”  and  Florrie’s  face  flushed 
with  pleasure,  “  let’s  all  go  to  the  Mount 
Sinai  Hospital  to-morrow  afternoon,  and 
visit  the  children’s  ward.” 

The  children  were  unanimous  in  favor¬ 
ing  the  proposal,  and  went  home  in  high 
glee,  to  arrange  the  all-important  details, 
including  escorts,  toys,  pennies,  and  a  few 
tiny  bouquets,  to  gladden  the  hearts  of  the 
little  sufferers  and  brighten  their  atmos¬ 
phere. 

II 

It  was  Sunday  afternoon.  A  group  of 
merry  boys  and  girls  entered  the  elevator 
of  the  hospital,  but  their  mood  soon 
changed,  when  they  reached  their  destina¬ 
tion,  the  children’s  ward.  George  lost  his 
roguish  look  at  once.  Frank  actually 
walked  on  tiptoe.  Florrie,  Maud,  Nellie, 

Sophie,  and  Esther  clung  together  near  the 

100 


THE  CHILDREN’S  GIFT 


threshold,  while  little  David’s  eyes  were 
fast  filling. 

What  influence  checked  their  buoyant 
spirits  ? 

It  was  the  sight  of  suffering  in  its  most 
heart-rending  forms.  A  dozen  beds  or 
more  were  arranged  along  each  side  of  the 
apartment.  The  faces  of  some  of  their 
little  occupants  were  seen  in  various  stages 
of  emaciation.  A  strange  stillness  pre¬ 
vailed.  The  nurses  moved  noiselessly  to 
and  fro.  The  doctor  was  examining  a  wan 
and  wasted  babe.  No  wonder  the  children 
paused. 

But  they  quickly  recovered,  as  a  nurse 
advanced  smilingly  toward  them,  and  as 
some  of  the  little  ones  half  arose  from  their 
beds  in  astonishment. 

Were  they  fairies, — so  ran  their  thoughts 
— or  princesses,  perhaps,  on  a  visit  ? 
What  did  it  mean,  the  group  of  happy, 
well-dressed  girls,  and  why  were  the  little 


101 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


boy’s  eyes  filled  with  tears?  And  what  was 
in  the  bundle,  anyway,  which  those  big 
boys  carried? 

Then  began  a  regular  visitation.  In  In¬ 
dian  file,  the  visitors  timidly  approached 
the  beds,  talked  with  each  occupant,  if  the 
child  was  at  all  sociable,  and  gradually 
made  themselves  at  home.  To  each  they 
gave  a  toy,  a  book,  and  a  few  pennies. 
Upon  the  tables  they  placed  small  bouquets. 
And  when  this  duty  was  performed,  they 
began  to  establish  still  more  intimate  rela¬ 
tions  with  the  sufferers. 

It  was  pathetic  to  notice  how  quickly  the 
little  ones  felt  that  the  visitors  were  the  best 
of  friends,  and  how  responsive  they  be¬ 
came.  One  lifted  his  wasted  hand  from 
the  coverlet,  another  showed  a  club-foot,  a 
third  pointed  to  an  abscess  on  the  neck,  and 
all  seemed  to  regard  it  as  their  first  duty  to 
acquaint  their  visitors  with  their  maladies 
in  the  best  possible  way.  George  was 


102 


THE  CHILDREN'S  GIFT 


especially  amused  at  hearing  a  boy  of 
twelve  cry  because  he  had  so  little  to 
eat.  He  had  just  recovered  from  typhoid 
fever,  and  was  not  allowed  much  food. 
David,  clinging  to  Sophie  and  Esther,  was 
fascinated  by  a  lovely  girl  of  four,  with 
spinal  disease.  Her  face  was  flushed  and 
her  hands  pink  as  a  shell.  She  did  not  talk, 
but  kept  watching  the  group  at  her  bed¬ 
side.  Florrie  was  trying  her  best  to  talk 
to  a  square-faced  urchin;  but  he  shook  his 
head,  and  then  the  nurse  told  her  that  he 
was  a  Russian,  and  did  not  understand 
English. 

“  He  understands  pennies,  though,”  ex¬ 
claimed  Maud  Levy. 

“Yes,  and  toys,  too,”  added  Nellie  Pin¬ 
ner,  putting  a  Noah’s  ark  into  his  thin 
hand. 

They  spent  a  pleasant  hour.  The  ward 
grew  more  cheerful  after  a  while.  The 
little  ones  did  not  differ  so  very  much  from 


103 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


other  little  ones.  Their  eyes  were  bright, 
their  hands  were  soft :  they  looked  so  grate¬ 
ful.  Some  were  inclined  to  romp  upon  the 
floor,  and  George  and  Frank  were  discus¬ 
sing  the  propriety  of  a  wrestling  contest 
for  the  general  amusement,  when  the  nurse 
told  Florrie  that  it  was  getting  late,  and 
that  they  would  be  happy  to  see  them  again. 
And  so  the  visitors  left,  with  many  a  kiss, 
hand-clasp,  and  bright  smile ;  and  the  little 
ones  for  quite  a  time  kept  their  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  door  through  which  Florrie  and 
her  friends  made  their  departure,  as  if  they 
expected  to  see  them  once  more.  Then  the 
twilight  grew  darker  and  darker,  and  the 
stars  shone  here  and  there  before  the  chil¬ 
dren  reached  their  homes.  But  in  their 
lives  new  stars  began  to  shine  from  that 
evening :  new  purposes,  aspirations,  re¬ 
solves.  Their  buoyancy  was  not  checked, 
nor  did  their  cheerfulness  suffer  in  the  least. 
They  were  apparently  the  same  children. 


/ 


104 


THE  CHILDREN’S  GIFT 


But  imperceptibly  finer  shades  of  conscious¬ 
ness  began  to  dawn ;  and  like  buds  opening 
into  bloom  in  the  joy  and  freshness  of 
spring,  their  characters  assumed  a  sweeter 
complexion.  They  seemed  to  realize  how 
noble  and  sublime  is  life,  what  opportuni¬ 
ties  it  affords  for  the  exercise  of  every  vir¬ 
tue.  Blessed  are  the  influences  which  make 
a  child  earnest  and  resolute,  without  sacri¬ 
ficing  the  childlike;  which  teach  the  young 
that  life  is  no  gay  promenade  but  an  ever¬ 
lasting  battle ;  which  chasten  their  thoughts, 
strengthen  their  powers,  and  consecrate 
them  to  the  highest  ideals. 

The  rabbi  paused. 

“  Well,  Rabbi  Hopeful,  I  don’t  see  any¬ 
thing  wonderful  in  such  a  visit  to  a  hospi¬ 
tal.  What  has  that  to  do  with  our  con¬ 
versation?  I  tell  you,  rabbi,  Judaism  is 
going  to  the  dogs.  There  is  no  faith,  no 
enthusiasm  any  more.”  And  Mr.  Blanket 
sighed  prodigiously. 


105 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


“  Indeed,  my  friend!  Is  that  your  can¬ 
did  opinion?  Perhaps  you  will  change 
your  mind  when  I  am  through.  There  is 
one  more  paged’  And  the  rabbi  continued 
to  read. 

Ill 

Florrie  to  Rabbi  Hopeful.  I  am  sure  it 
will  please  you  to  learn,  dear  Rabbi  Hope¬ 
ful,  that  at  a  meeting  of  the  children  of  the 
Religious  Schools  of  the  Central  Synagogue 
it  was  unanimously  resolved  that  weekly 
collections,  beginning  with  this  Hanukkah, 
be  made  to  endow  a  bed  in  the  children’s 
ward  at  Mount  Sinai  Hospital. 

Dear  rabbi,  you  will  be  glad,  I  know,  to 
learn  that  the  children  who  attend  your 
Sabbath  afternoon  service  do  not  propose 
to  grow  like  Onias  in  the  talmudic  tale  you 
so  sweetly  told  us.  We  would  rather  be 
like  Moses  and  Judith  Montefiore,  loving 
our  people  and  living  among  them,  and 


106 


THE  CHILDREN’S  GIFT 


none  the  less  aiding  all  who  suffer,  what¬ 
ever  their  clime,  or  creed,  or  condition. 

My  father  helped  me  just  a  little  with 
this  letter,  and  I  hope  that  you  won’t  be 
angry.  For  I  cannot  begin  to  express  how 
much  we  owe  to  you,  and  how  fervently  we 
pray  that  we  may  grow  more  and  more 
attached  to  our  religion.  I  enclose  the  re¬ 
sult  of  our  collection,  $137.25. 

“  Well,  Mr.  Blanket,  what  do  you  think 
now?”  asked  the  rabbi  exultantly. 

“To  tell  you  the  real  truth,  Rabbi 
Hopeful,  to  tell  you  the  truth,”  Mr. 
Blanket  solemnly  repeated,  “  I  think  there 
is  hope  after  all.” 

“  I  should  think  there  was,  my  friend.” 

“  I’ll  send  you  my  cheque  to  increase  that 
fund.” 

“  Don’t  want  it.  The  children  will  raise 
enough;  and  if  the  amount  falls  short,  the 
other  schools  will  be  asked  to  assist,  and 
we  shall  endow  two  beds.” 


107 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


“  Oh,  do  let  me  send  the  money,  won’t 
you?  ” 

“  I’ll  tell  you  what  you  can  do,  Mr. 
Blanket,  you  and  your  gloomy  tribe.  Give 
up  doleful  anticipations.  Don’t  prepare  any 
funeral  sermons  for  the  old  faith.  There’s 
life,  bountiful  life,  in  Judaism  yet.  A  newer 
impulse  is  thrilling  our  young.  They  will 
prove  our  best  banner-bearers.  Let  their 
wants  be  studied,  their  cries  heeded;  let 
their  culture  and  training  be  the  watchword 
of  the  hour.  And  now,  Mr.  Blanket,  as  a 
reward  for  having  so  patiently  listened,  you 
may  light  the  Hanukkah  candles  with  me.” 

And  Mr.  Blanket  did  so  with  positive 
alacrity. 


108 


THE  HAPPY  FAMILY 


And  if  I  give  thee  honour  due, 

Mirth,  admit  me  of  thy  crew. 

— L’ Allegro. 

Now  I  know  all  the  ingredients  of 
Purim  tales  which  never  happen.  They 
are  stories  of  mystery  and  romance.  Papa 
says  he  will  not  go  to  the  ball,  as  he  has  an 
engagement  for  that  very  evening  in  Wash¬ 
ington.  Mamma  says  she  is  so  glad  to  stay 
at  home.  But  lo !  when  the  clock  strikes 
twelve,  and  the  maskers  unmask,  Don 
Januario  finds  his  wife  in  the  Italian  flower 
girl  who  had  clung  to  him  so  confidingly 
for  half  an  hour.  Or,  perhaps,  the  scene 
is  laid  in  some  German  town,  and  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Blankberg  are  preparing  to  enjoy 
their  evening  repast  of  Dutch  herring  and 
potato  salad,  when  a  band  of  maskers  enters 
the  room;  and  among  them  is  discovered 
their  long-lost  youngest  son  Alexander, 


s 


109 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


who  had  vanished  twenty  years  before, 
leaving  his  agonized  parents  in  doubt 
whether  he  had  become  a  politician  in 
America  or  a  cobbler  in  China.  Or  pos¬ 
sibly  the  scene  is  shifted  to  the  Academy 
boards.  The  fair  Seraphina  Strauss  and 
the  manly  Augustus  Applebaum,  whom 
cruel  fate,  in  the  form  of  an  odious  mother- 
in-law  on  one  side  and  a  treacherous  uncle 
on  the  other,  relentlessly  keeps  apart, 
swear  eternal  constancy  in  the  shadow  of 
the  rustic  bridge.  Ten  minutes  later,  secure 
in  the  consciousness  of  mutual  love,  they 
almost  choke  over  boned-turkey. 

These  are  wholly  imaginary  Purim  tales. 
We  live  in  other  days,  and  will  not  tolerate 
deception,  however  skilfully  worded.  A 
real,  genuine,  matter-of-fact,  unconven¬ 
tional,  truly  honest  Purim  tale  is  quite  an¬ 
other  affair,  as  the  reader  will  find  out,  if 
a  few  minutes  are  devoted  to  the  following 
simple  sketch  and  veritable  history. 


110 


THE  HAPPY  FAMILY 


“  Well,  George,”  said  Mrs.  Aguilar  one 
evening  to  her  eldest  son,  as  he  was  reading 
the  paper,  occupying  three  chairs  at  the 
same  time,  although  he  was  not  over  five 
feet  eight  inches.  “  Well,  George,  is  there 
anything  new  this  evening?  ” 

“  Not  this  evening,  mother,”  replied  the 
Columbia  junior.  “  But  some  other  eve¬ 
ning,  possibly,”  he  replied,  neither  relax¬ 
ing  a  muscle  of  his  face,  nor  changing  his 
sprawling  posture  on  three  chairs. 

“  O  Ge-orge,”  was  his  sister  Irma’s  con¬ 
temptuous  exclamation.  “  How  can  you 
talk  slang?  I  declare  you  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  yourself.”  The  young  lady, 
having  just  graduated  from  the  Normal 
College,  felt  it  her  duty  to  maintain  the  dig¬ 
nity  of  the  family  at  any  cost. 

“  I  think  I  have  the  newest  thing  out,” 
said  Mr.  Aguilar,  rising  from  his  easy 
chair. 

“  I  hope  that  it  is  not  small-pox,”  said 


111 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


George  aside  to  his  youngest  brother, 
Augustus. 

“  And  I  flatter  myself,  Sophia  Angel¬ 
ica,”  said  Mr.  Aguilar  to  his  wife,  “  that 
all  of  you  will  be  gratified  when  I  make  it 
known.” 

Such  a  long  speech  had  rarely  been  heard 
from  Alonzo  Aguilar.  He  was  a  quiet, 
good-natured  man,  who  never  aspired  to 
the  presidency  of  the  congregation. 

When  the  words  fell  upon  his  wife,  and 
George,  and  Irma,  and  Augustus,  and  the 
children,  they  listened  in  speechless  aston¬ 
ishment. 

“  Now,  then,  what  do  you  say  to  this?  ” 
and  Mr.  Alonzo  raised  aloft  a  Purim  ball 
ticket.  “  Joe  Schloss  sent  some  around  to 
the  office  this  afternoon.” 

The  ticket  passed  around  the  family,  all 
of  whom  indulged  in  varied  criticism. 

“  Why,  pop,”  said  George,  as  he 
scanned  the  names  at  the  back  of  the  ticket. 


112 


THE  HAPPY  FAMILY 


“  They  have  you  down  among  the  man¬ 
agers.  You  can’t  back  out  now.  You 
must  go.”  v 

“  And  what  is  more,  pa,”  said  Augustus, 

“  we  must  all  go.” 

“  Really,  though?  ”  inquired  the  now 
startled  parent. 

“  Yes,  love,”  chimed  in  his  wife  in 
her  sweetest  tones.  “  I  think  it  would  be 
a  very  nice  thing  for  all  of  us  to  go. 
You  can  buy  a  box,  you  know,  and  the  boys 
could  enjoy  themselves,  while  Irma,  and  I, 
and  you,  and  the  children  could  look 
quietly  on.” 

Mr.  Aguilar’s  face  was  at  this  moment 
a  study.  A  shadow  was  stealing  over  it, 
obliterating  all  of  its  attractiveness.  He 
hemmed,  coughed,  frowned,  toyed  with  his 
watch-chain,  and  looked  at  the  ceiling.  It  * 
would  ruin  him,  so  ran  his  thoughts. 

What?  A  box!  Add  carriage,  dresses, 
supper,  gloves,  and  it  would  cost  him  $300. 


113 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


He  must  try  a  little  strategy,  that  was  all. 
Perhaps  he  might  succeed. 

“  I  don’t  know,  my  love,”  said  he  reflec¬ 
tively.  “  It  strikes  me  that  it  is  little 
pleasure  sitting  in  a  box.  There  are  sure 
to  be  draughts,”  giving  his  shoulders  a 
smart  rubbing,  as  if  he  already  felt  a  twinge 
of  rheumatism.  “  No,  no,  love.  It  would 
be  silly  to  take  a  box.  Let’s  hit  upon  an¬ 
other  plan.” 

The  family,  with  becoming  reverence 
for  the  head  of  the  house,  at  once  went  into 
executive  session  to  solve  every  difficulty. 

“  Father,”  George  exclaimed.  “  You 
are  right  about  the  box.  It  would  be  a 
needless  expense.  There  is  a  better  plan. 
Drop  the  box  idea,  and  let  us  form  a  party 
to  go  masked.” 

“  What,  I  go  masked?  ”  said  his  father 
with  an  injured  look. 

“  Why,  of  course.  You  would  look  jolly 
as  an  American  Indian.  And  you,  mother, 


114 


THE  HAPPY  FAMILY 


would  be  charming  as  a  Maid  of  Athens. 
And  you,  Irma,  would  make  a  delightful 
Sairy  Gamp.  You,  Augustus,  might  im¬ 
personate  Og,  king  of  Bashan.  And  I 
would  go  as — ” 

“  A  weasel;  you  are  so  fond  of  boring,” 
his  brother  finished  the  sentence  for  him. 

The  clouds  cleared,  the  sun  shone  out 
again.  Mr.  Aguilar  brightened  up.  But 
there  was  a  difficulty.  What  characters 
would  they  all  assume?  It  was  stuff  and 
nonsense  to  talk  of  Indians,  and  Maids  of 
Athens,  and  such  trite  people.  They  must 
appear  in  something  novel  and  striking,  for 
the  credit  of  the  family.  They  must  cause 
a  sensation.  Nothing  else  would  satisfy 
them.  Again  the  thermometer  sank  to 
zero,  and  the  sun  vanished.  George  was  in 
despair,  for  his  brilliant  scheme  was  about 
to  be  wrecked. 

At  this  moment  the  bell  rang,  and  in 
walked  uncle  Adolph. 


115 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


“  Well,  you  are  a  happy  family,”  he 
exclaimed,  as  he  noticed  the  gloomy  faces. 

A  cry  of  triumph  came  from  George. 
“  Thanks,  uncle,  for  the  word.  That’s  it. 
Happy  family.  We’ll  go  as  the  happy 
family.  Hurrah !  Kangaroos,  tigers,  lions, 
monkeys,  and  all  of  that.  Birds,  fish,  and, 
and — ” 

“  Creeping  things,”  added  Augustus. 

At  first  Mr.  Aguilar  refused  to  see  the 
point,  but  uncle  Adolph  gave  his  powerful 
support  to  George  when  the  plans  were 
duly  made  known  to  him.  In  the  kindness 
of  his  heart  he  offered  to  go  as  an  alligator. 

“  No,  uncle  Adolph,  you  had  better  go 
as  a  dolphin,”  suggested  Augustus  in  bet¬ 
ter  humor. 

It  did  not  take  long,  at  this  stage  in  the 
proceedings,  to  overrule  the  objections  of 
the  timorous  father,  and  it  was  finally  re¬ 
solved  by  a  unanimous  vote  that  the  farce, 
or  rather  pantomime,  entitled  “  A  Happy 


116 


THE  HAPPY  FAMILY 


Family  ”  should  be  played  at  the  coming 
Purim  ball  with  the  following  cast  of  char¬ 
acters,  a  couple  of  cousins  and  a  friend  be¬ 
ing  added  to  give  the  necessary  complete¬ 
ness  : 

Tiger . Alonzo  Aguilar. 

Lioness . Mrs.  Aguilar. 

Fawn . Irma  Aguilar. 

Bear . George  Aguilar. 

Monkey . Augustus  Aguilar. 

Baby  elephant . Priscilla  Aguilar. 

Baby  polar  bear.  .Napoleon  Aguilar. 

General  showman.  .  .  .Uncle  Adolph. 

Squirrel,  rabbit,  chicken :  obliging  cousins 
and  friend. 

It  was  after  much  debate  that  the  cast 
was  finally  arranged.  At  first  Augustus 
flatly  refused  to  be  a  monkey,  but  being 
an  ambitious  youth  he  consented  when  told 
that  he  might  climb  aloft.  Irma  assumed 
her  role  on  condition  that  she  might  wear 


117 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


her  fawn-colored  kids.  George’s  was  his 
first  choice,  and  he  determined  to  become 
as  grizzly  a  bear  as  possible  and  hug  every¬ 
body  huggable  at  the  ball.  Mr.  Aguilar 
would  have  preferred  a  gentler  character, 
but  yielded  to  the  general  request,  refusing, 
however,  to  be  a  Bengal  tiger  under  any 
consideration. 

“  Well,  pa,  you  needn’t  be  a  Bengal 
tiger.  You  can  be  a  simple  tiger,  then,” 
said  George. 

Mr.  Aguilar’s  prejudice  against  being 
a  Bengal  tiger  was  not  explained.  Mrs. 
Aguilar  was  satisfied  with  her  role,  and 
the  children  were  delighted  with  theirs.  It 
was  a  great  stroke  of  genius  on  their  uncle’s 
part  to  think  of  them  at  all.  To  increase 
the  general  effect,  the  tiger  was  to  carry 
the  baby  bear,  and  the  lioness  the  baby  ele¬ 
phant.  At  the  last  moment,  Mr.  Aguilar, 
gathering  courage,  faintly  suggested  that  a 
giraffe  was  better  adapted  to  his  powers, 


118 


THE  HAPPY  FAMILY 


but  was  not  disposed  to  press  his  claim  in 
the  face  of  hostile  public  opinion. 

“  It  is  sure  to  be  a  failure,  Sophia  An¬ 
gelica,”  he  exclaimed  to  his  wife,  as  he 
went  to  bed,  “  there  ought  to  be  a  giraffe.” 

“  Then  there  would  be  another  donkey,” 
was  his  wife’s  hastily  uttered  thought, 
which  her  husband  could  not  understand  at 
that  time. 

The  night  approached.  It  was  a  clear, 
bright  evening.  It  had  been  a  week  of 
ferment  and  fever.  The  shops  had  been 
ransacked.  The  costumiers  visited.  At 
last  all  had  been  arranged,  and  the  Happy 
Family  was  collected  in  the  spacious  par¬ 
lor  of  Mr.  Aguilar’s  mansion.  The  baby 
elephant  had  been  threatened  with  measles, 
it  is  true,  and  the  baby  bear  had  had  a  dis¬ 
tressful  toothache.  But  at  that  hour  every¬ 
body  was  in  the  best  condition.  The  car¬ 
riages  were  at  the  door  to  take  them  to  the 


119 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


ball.  The  steeds  were  prancing.  There 
was  a  crowd  of  small  boys  gathering  on  the 
sidewalk. 

“Where’s  the  cage,  uncle?”  suddenly 
shouted  George,  nervously.  “  There’s 
got  to  be  a  cage.  Who  ever  heard  of  a 
happy  family  without  a  cage?” 

“  O  hang  it,  George,”  said  his  uncle,  who 
was  nervous,  too.  “  You  are  thinking  of  a 
family  of  birds,  not  beasts.” 

“  O  mamma,”  said  the  baby  elephant, 
“  it  hurts  my  nose.” 

“  O  papa,”  said  the  baby  bear,  “  I’m  so 
awful  hot.” 

“  Come,  Aguilar,”  said  the  uncle  at  this 
juncture,  “  let’s  be  off.  Come,  children,  go 
down  quietly,  and  you,  George,  don’t  tease. 
Follow  me.” 

The  door  swung  open,  the  family  filed 
down  the  steps,  amid  the  laughter  and  the 
shouts  of  the  assembled  urchins,  and  soon 
rolled  away  in  two  carriages.  The  hour 
of  triumph  had  arrived! 

120 


THE  HAPPY  FAMILY 


In  about  two  hours  or  so,  there  was  a 
sound  of  returning  wheels.  Fortunately, 
for  the  peace  of  the  family,  there  were  no 
unruly  gamins  to  witness  their  return  from 
the  ball.  They  walked  up  the  stone  steps 
wearily,  an  wwhappy  family  at  last. 

They  never  told  of  their  evening’s  sport, 
but  I  have  nevertheless  been  informed  of 
what  happened.  The  baby  elephant  and 
baby  bear  were  the  innocent  cause  of  the  dis¬ 
aster.  For  when  the  happy  family  trod  the 
Academy  boards,  they  were  separated  by  a 
sudden  rush  of  people,  and  the  chicken  and 
the  two  baby  animals  were  lost  in  the 
throng.  The  disappearance  of  the  chicken 
did  not  worry  anybody,  but  at  the  catas¬ 
trophe  which  overwhelmed  Napoleon  and 
Priscilla,  the  lioness  and  the  fawn  fainted 
outright,  and  the  tiger  was  thrown  into  the 
utmost  consternation.  At  this  very  moment 
unearthly  yells  issued  from  the  baby  ani¬ 
mals.  In  vain  did  stalwart  committee-men 


121 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


strive  to  quiet  them;  they  wept  and  refused 
to  be  comforted.  Fortunately,  the  keen 
eye  of  uncle  Adolph  wandering  over  the 
brilliant  assembly  at  last  discerned  the  miss¬ 
ing  children.  He  darted  into  the  midst  of 
the  throng,  followed  by  the  panting  tiger 
and  the  disconsolate  bear — the  monkey  was 
busy  in  the  retiring-room  assuring  the  lion¬ 
ess  and  the  fawn  that  the  children  had  been 
found.  In  a  few  minutes  the  party  returned 
home,  leaving  George  and  his  uncle,  to¬ 
gether  with  the  chicken,  the  rabbit,  and  the 
squirrel,  in  possession  of  the  floor. 

The  following  Sabbath  Mr.  Aguilar,  re¬ 
turning  from  synagogue,  met  his  friend, 
Sam  Mendoza. 

“  Say,  Aguilar,  were  you  at  the  ball?  ” 

* 

“  No,  I  had  to  go  to  Boston  that 
evening.” 

“  Well,  you  missed  a  heap  of  fun,  I  tell 
you.” 

“  Did  I?  ”  said  Aguilar,  reflectively. 


122 


THE  HAPPY  FAMILY 


“  But  the  best  of  it  all,”  added  Mendoza, 
without  glancing  at  the  now  pallid  counte¬ 
nance  of  Aguilar,  “  the  best  of  it  all  was 
at  about  eleven.  A  lot  of  fools  entered 
dressed  as  animals,  and  they  caused  such 
confusion  that  they  were  hustled  off  the 
floor.  Ha  !  Ha  !  ”  continued  Mendoza. 
“  It  would  have  done  you  good  to  see  them 
scamper  out  of  the  Academy.” 

“Were  they  drunk?”  asked  Aguilar, 
with  a  faint  quiver  of  the  lower  jaw. 

“  Of  course  they  were,”  replied  his 
friend.  “  Straus,  who  was  chairman  of  the 
reception  committee,  you  know,  assured  me 
that  two  of  the  men  were  actually  half¬ 
seas  over.  A  fine  state  of  things.  You 
ought  to  have  been  there,  Aggy,  my  boy!  ” 


123 


A  VOICE  FOR  FREEDOM 


Cry  aloud,  spare  not, 

Lift  up  thy  voice  like  a  horn  .... 

— Isaiah. 

He  was  not  such  a  bad  sort  of  fellow, 
but  he  was  dreadfully  in  earnest,  you  know, 
and  that  was  a  grave  defect.  It  is  usually 
unwise  to  take  oneself  too  seriously.  If 
his  congregation,  too,  had  been  in  earnest, 
why,  he  would  have  got  along  capitally; 
but  as  they  did  not  care  much  about  any¬ 
thing,  and  were  satisfied  to  let  matters  take 
their  course,  he  felt  himself  in  the  wrong 
box.  Why  didn’t  he  smother  his  con¬ 
science  and  glide  with  the  stream?  Why 
did  he  allow  himself  to  worry  if  the  con¬ 
gregation  were  only  Jews  in  name?  Why 
did  he  get  thin  and  pale,  because  a  few 
hundred  persistently  stayed  away  from 
public  worship,  as  if  it  was  his  fault, — he 


124 


A  VOICE  FOR  FREEDOM 


whose  heart  beat  so  warmly  for  his  breth¬ 
ren  and  whose  hand  was  ever  open  to  re¬ 
lieve  the  poor?  Why  not  pocket  his  salary 
without  murmuring,  and  wait  for  better 
days? 

Well,  he  was  of  a  different  calibre — 
that  is  all.  He  was  a  rabbi  with  an  idea, 
a  fixed  idea,  which  he  felt  it  his  duty  to 
realize  at  once  in  order  to  save  his  people 
from  the  Gehenna  of  their  apathy,  at  what¬ 
ever  personal  sacrifice. 

I 

“  Now,  David,  dear,”  said  a  rather 
short,  florid,  pleasant-faced  woman,  one 
evening  in  April,  as  they  sat  together,  the 
rabbi  and  his  wife,  in  their  cosy  flat,  not  ten 
miles  distant  from  199th  Street,  “  now, 
David,  I  am  sure  that  you  have  something 
that  worries  you.  Do  let  me  make  you  a 
little  tea.  You  had  no  supper,  you  know.” 


9 


125 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


“  For  heaven’s  sake,  Selina,  let  me  be, 
and  don’t  bother.” 

“  Well,  David,  I  don’t  want  to  bother 
you,”  she  replied  in  a  gentle  voice.  “  But 
if  you  go  on  in  this  way,  you  will  become  a 
skeleton.” 

“  The  sooner  the  better,”  he  added 
grimly,  with  a  heavy  sigh,  which  smote 
poor  Mrs.  Gomez’s  heart — and  it  was  such 
a  tender  little  heart  that  any  sudden  blow, 
no  matter  how  light,  would  have  crushed 
it  at  once. 

“  David,  do  tell  me  what  it  is.  Have 
you  lost  your  sermon  for  Passover?  Or 
have  you  a  headache  again?  ” 

Mr.  Gomez  could  not  repress  a  smile  at 
his  wife’s  rapid  volley  of  questions,  and 
she  was  so  reassured  that  her  eyes  grew 
moist. 

“  Why,  Selina,  darling,  what  a  silly  child 
you  are !  There’s  nothing  at  all  the  matter 
with  me,  I  assure  you.” 


126 


A  VOICE  FOR  FREEDOM 


“Then,  then,”  sobbed  Mrs.  Gomez, 
“  why  do  you  go  on  so  ?  I  thought  you  had 
lost  your  sermon,  or  had  a  head — ” 

“There,  there,  that  will  do,”  he  quickly 
rejoined.  “  Try  to  be  less  hysterical  in  the 
future,  love.  And  now,  if  you  will  make 
me  a  nice  cup  of  tea,  I  will  tell  you  all 
about  it.”  And  he  kissed  her  affec¬ 
tionately.  Considerably  mollified,  Mrs. 
Gomez,  with  a  rapidity  marvellous  to  the 
uninitiated,  set  a  cup  of  tea  and  a  plate  of 
toast  before  her  husband. 

“  The  fact  is,  Selina,”  said  Mr.  Gomez, 
with  his  mouth  half  filled  with  buttered 
toast,  “  the  fact  is,  I  am  sick  of  the  people, 
and  if  they  were  only  sick  of  me,  I  would  be 
satisfied.  It’s  horrible,  my  dear,  how  they 
violate  the  sacred  laws  of  Judaism.  What 
will  be  the  end  of  it  all,  God  only  knows.” 

“  Ah,  David,  what  is  the  use  of  worry¬ 
ing?  Let  them  do  as  they  please.  Did 
you  order  the  prelatos?  ”* 

*  A  kind  of  cake  made  for  Passover. 


127 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


“  There  are  the  Montezumas,  love,  and 
not  one  attends  the  temple  since  they 
started  their  office  in  Broad  Street.  There’s 
the—” 

“  Here’s  another  cup  of  tea.  It  will 
warm  you,  dear.” 

“  Oh,  bother  the  tea,  Mrs.  G.  When 
will  you  show  a  little  sympathy  for 
Judaism?  ” 

“  Now,  David,”  said  the  lady,  “  I  care 
more  for  you  than  for  Judaism,  and  you 
ought  to  care  more  for  me  than  Judaism. 
But  you  don’t,  you  don’t.  It’s  always  the 
congregation,  and — and — you  haven’t  told 
me  if  you’ve  ordered  the  prelatos  yet?  ” 
And  she  began  to  weep. 

“Selina,  don’t  be  such  a  ninny.  I  love 
you  more  than  the  congregation,  you  know 
I  do,  and  you  might  display  a  little,  just  a 
little  more  regard  for  my  interests.  Now, 
attention,  while  I  tell  you  something.  I 
know  I  worry  a  good  deal  more  than  is 


128 


A  VOICE  FOR  FREEDOM 


necessary,  but  there  is  one  topic,  my  dear 
(was  it  prelatos?  ran  her  thoughts),  one 
topic  which  I  cannot  worry  too  much  about 
(she  was  sure  now  it  was  prelatos),  and 
that  is — that  is — ” 

“  Well,  prelatos,  I  know  it  is,  David,” 
she  said,  with  a  rippling  laugh. 

“  Bother  your  prelatos.  I  mean  the  Sab¬ 
bath,  our  holy  Sabbath.  I  will  not  consent 
to  be  contaminated  further  by  the  example 
of  my  congregation.  If  they  prefer  to  vio¬ 
late  the  Sabbath,  why,  I  will  resign  at  once. 
That’s  my  idea.  What  do  you  think  of 
it?” 

Mrs.  Gomez  was  somewhat  dazed.  She 
had  set  her  heart  upon  prelatos,  and  the 
disappointment  was  keen.  Still,  like  a 
brave  women,  she  looked  up,  and  answered : 
“  Yes,  dear.” 

“  Do  you  understand  the  idea,  Selina?  ” 

“  Well,  David,”  she  replied,  collecting 
her  scattered  thoughts,  “  don’t  do  any- 


129 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


thing  rash.  Remember  that  they  are  not 
worth  all  the  trouble.  I  wouldn’t  exert 
myself  too  much,  dear.  O  David,”  and 
here  a  great  wave  of  common  sense  swept 
over  her.  “  Do  give  it  up.  Leave  the  con¬ 
gregation.  You  are  wasting  your  life 
among  people  who  don’t  understand  what 
you  say.  You  are  killing  yourself  by 
inches,  and  when  you  are  gone,  what  is  to 
become  of  me?  ” 

“  There,  there,  Selina,”  said  Mr. 
Gomez,  “  don’t  give  way  so,  I  shall  do 
nothing  rash,  but  I  can’t  be  paid  to  preach 
to  hypocrites  and  cowards  until  I  become 
like  them.  The  world  is  wide,  and  if  every 
pulpit  is  closed  against  me,  why,  my  love, 
there  are  thousands  of  the  poor  who  never 
heard  a  preacher,  and  there  are  thousands 
of  poor  children,  too,  whom  one  can  train 
in  right  living  and  thinking.” 

“  But  we  may  starve,  David,  and  there 
are  the  children,”  and  Mrs.  Gomez  thought 


130 


A  VOICE  FOR  FREEDOM 


of  Rosie  and  May  and  Bertie  in  their  little 
cribs  in  the  other  room. 

“  Well,  Selina,  you  do  not  forget  those 
lines  of  Lowell,  do  you  ? 

God  is  not  dumb  that  He  should  speak  no  more; 

If  thou  hast  wanderings  in  the  wilderness 
And  find’st  not  Sinai,  ’tis  thy  soul  is  poor; 

There  towers  the  mountain  of  the  Voice  no  less, 
Which  whoso  seeks  shall  find,  but  he  who  bends, 
Intent  on  manna  still  and  mortal  ends, 

Sees  it  not,  neither  hears  its  thundered  lore.” 

Mrs.  Gomez  had  forgotten  all  about  the 
prelatos,  and  was  stirred  by  her  husband’s 
earnestness. 

“  Dear  David,  do  what  God  bids  you 
do.  He  giveth  to  the  young  birds  that  for 
which  they  cry.” 

II 

It  was  Passover  morn,  such  a  bright, 
clear,  joyous  day  with  the  fragrance  of 
June  about  it,  that  Mr.  Gomez  was  in  the 
best  of  humor  at  the  breakfast-table,  and 
his  pleasantry  was  a  relief  to  his  wife,  who 


181 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


was  beginning  to  dread  the  possibility  of 
his  resignation.  She  hoped  that  he  had 
forgotten  all  about  his  “  idea.” 

“  I  fancy,  Selina,  you  had  better  not  take 
the  children  to  the  temple  to-day.  It  will 
be  very  crowded.  Fine  weather  and  spring 
bonnets,  you  know.  Here,  you  little  rogue, 
you  are  glad  to  stay  at  home,  I  am  sure.” 

“  Yes,  me  not  like  to  go,”  replied  Master 
Bertie,  making  miniature  forts  of  matzo- 
fragments,  to  the  unconcealed  delight  of 
the  Misses  May  and  Rosie,  as  they  sat  on 
their  high  chairs. 

“And  why  not,  Bertie?”  asked  his 
papa. 

“  Betause!  ”  he  said  in  a  decided  tone. 

“  Because  why?  ” 

“  Oh,  betause,  betause,  betause,”  added 
the  child,  in  a  quick  way,  to  stop  further 
inquiry. 

“  He  will  become  a  great  leader  one  of 
these  days,”  said  Mr.  Gomez.  “  Now, 


132 


A  VOICE  FOR  FREEDOM 


Selina,  my  love,  I’m  off.  Don’t  come  too 
late,  dear,  just  before  the  sermon.  It 
makes  the  people  talk,  and  what’s  the  good? 
And  besides,  you  know  it  is  the  last — ” 
He  left  the  sentence  incomplete,  and  was 
soon  on  his  way  to  the  synagogue,  while 
Mrs.  Gomez  had  all  her  anxieties  painfully 
reawakened.  She  was  so  alarmed  that  she 
resolved  to  make  an  effort,  and  took  her 
seat  in  the  temple  half  an  hour  before  the 
sermon.  But  all  the  time  she  could  not  say 
a  single  prayer.  On  her  husband’s  face 
there  sat  a  strange  cold  look :  his  eyes  were 
deep-set,  his  lips  compressed.  He  seemed 
to  have  aged  in  the  short  course  of  an  hour. 
She  was  sure  it  was  not  the  prelatos  this 
time. 

Mr.  Gomez  never  ascended  the  pulpit 
with  the  slow,  measured  step  of  an  under¬ 
taker,  but  always  with  a  cheerful,  happy 
look,  and  buoyant  tread.  To-day,  how¬ 
ever,  he  seemed  to  totter,  and  he  dragged 


133 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


himself  forward  with  painful  hesitation, 
and  stood  clinging  to  the  pulpit  for  sup¬ 
port.  He  gazed  around  half  vacantly,  then 
closed  his  eyes,  as  if  for  divine  help  in  a  mo¬ 
ment  of  agony  and  weakness.  But  it  was 
only  for  a  moment,  then  the  clouds  cleared. 

“  Well,  dear  friends,”  said  he,  “  under 
God’s  providence  we  have  Passover  again. 
It  is  a  good  old  festival.  There  are  many 
here  this  morning  who  recollect  the  joyful 
hearts  with  which  they,  as  children,  wel¬ 
comed  its  incoming,  and  how  they  looked 
with  awe  at  the  preparation  for  the  feast. 
Why,  its  commonest  features  had  for  them 
a  wonderful  interest,  and  probably  each  of 
you  followed  your  parents  with  toddling 
steps,  and  listened,  with  eyes  and  ears  wide- 
open,  to  the  busy  household  hum.  And 
when  evening  came,  and  you  went  to  syna¬ 
gogue,  holding  fast  your  father’s  hand, 
how  you  tripped  along  without  a  shadow 
of  care  1  And  when  the  service  was  over, 


134 


A  VOICE  FOR  FREEDOM 


in  whose  prayers  you  loudly  joined,  you 
tripped  home  again  more  joyously,  for  you 
were  eager  for  the  raisin  wine  which  you 
had  helped  to  make.  How  swiftly  that 
evening  passed !  With  what  happy  voices 
you  sang  the  songs  which  praised  God  for 
His  loving  favor !  and  then  you  drank  and 
ate,  with  hearts  so  light  that  God’s  angels 
seemed  to  be  there  hovering  over  your 
happy  household. 

The  other  day  some  one  said  to  me :  4  I 
do  not  feel  any  more  like  I  used  to,  Mr. 
Gomez.  The  old  holiday  atmosphere  is 
gone.’  Yes,  no  doubt  of  it.  It  was  gone 
for  him.  He  did  not  feel  like  he  used  to, 
because  once  his  heart  was  trustful  as  a 
child’s,  while  now  he  yawned  at  what  in  his 
youth  was  full  of  inspiration.  If  you  are 
blind,  you  cannot  see  the  stars;  they  are 
shining  all  the  same;  it  is  your  light  that 
has  vanished.  You  do  not  often  consider 
that  point  of  view.  Now  here  is  Passover; 


135 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


if  the  old  atmosphere  is  absent,  you  are  to 
blame,  not  the  festival.  Don’t  talk  about 
the  degeneracy  of  the  age,  when  we  our¬ 
selves  are  degenerate.  It  is  the  spectre  of 
the  time,  not  its  spirit,  which  bids  us  de¬ 
spise  what  has  preserved  our  race  from 
decay.” 

Then  Mr.  Gomez  took  up  his  text  “  Let 
My  people  go,  that  they  may  serve  Me,” 
and,  after  a  brief  historical  retrospect, 
showed  that  this  was  the  voice  which  Israel 
heard  in  every  era,  as  an  exhortation  to  free 
themselves  from  spiritual  slavery,  mere 
worship  of  the  letter,  while  the  spirit  eluded 
their  grasp.  He  followed  this  thought  for 
some  time,  and  then  suddenly  branched  off 
to  the  function  of  the  Sabbath  in  keeping 
alive  the  Jewish  spirit  and  freeing  it  from 
the  shackles  of  every-day  life  and  tempta¬ 
tions.  He  paused  for  a  moment,  then 
breathed  deeply,  and  began  anew: 

“  Here  you  have  my  position  exactly. 


136 


A  VOICE  FOR  FREEDOM 


The  members  of  this  congregation,  with 
but  few  exceptions,  habitually  violate  the 
Sabbath.  It  appears  that  most  of  you  think 
it  sufficient  to  repeat  prayers  for  the  Sab¬ 
bath,  although  it  is  not  your  purpose  to  rest 
on  that  day.  You  all  know  the  Law,  and 
yet  you  disobey  it.  Yes,  there  are  difficul¬ 
ties  in  the  way  of  its  observance,  I  admit 
that  without  hesitation,  but  they  are  not 
greater  than  those  which  our  fathers  over¬ 
came.  Had  they  yielded  to  every  obstacle, 
there  would  not  have  survived  a  single 
synagogue  to-day.  Frankly,  I  am  tired  of 
referring  to  this  matter.  It  is  not  from 
choice,  but  from  a  sense  of  duty.  If  you 
go  to  a  physician,  he  will  prescribe  a  remedy 
for  your  disease ;  and  if  you  refuse  his  medi¬ 
cine,  any  doctor  with  self-respect  would 
dismiss  you  as  a  patient.  The  Sabbath  is 
the  old-fashioned  remedy  to  revive  Juda¬ 
ism’s  flagging  energies.  Yet  you  deliber¬ 
ately  reject  it:  I  cannot  justify  your  neglect. 


137 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


I  hate  to  scold.  I  confess  my  inability  to 
preach  to  you  further,  and  resign  from  this 
hour.  Perhaps  another  rabbi  might  exert 
more  influence  and  arouse  you  from  your 
indifference.  Perhaps  you  want  me  to 
justify  your  disloyalty.” 

Mr.  Gomez  rounded  his  address  with  a 
few  more  sentences,  expressive  of  the  hope 
that  they  might  find  a  more  congenial 
preacher,  and  he  a  more  congenial  congre¬ 
gation;  and  then  he  closed  with  a  brief 
prayer. 


138 


FROM  LAND  TO  LAND 


Kind  messages  that  pass  from  land  to  land; 

Kind  letters  that  betray  the  heart’s  deep  history, 

In  which  we  feel  the  pressure  of  a  hand — 

One  touch  of  fire, — and  all  the  rest  is  mystery. 

— Longfellow. 

I 

David  to  Eugene 

Now  don’t  scold  me,  mein  Lieber,  be¬ 
cause  I  have  allowed  months  and  months 
to  elapse  before  writing  to  you.  I  remem¬ 
ber  perfectly  well  the  promise  I  made,  un¬ 
der  the  shade  of  that  lime-tree,  upon  whose 
bough  a  tiny  bird  was  carolling,  and  whose 
leaves  were  bright  with  the  radiance  of  the 
setting  sun;  but  truly  honest,  I  have  not  had 
the  heart  to  talk  to  you,  and  I  feared  that 
my  letter  would  be  so  lugubriously  blue  as  to 
terrify  your  mild  Teutonic  nature.  How 
can  I  describe  to  you  the  homesickness  which 


189 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


has  tortured  me  since  I  last  wrung  your 
hand  at  Heidelberg? — homesick  at  home! 
An  odd  feeling.  Don’t  grow  conceited, 
however,  and  think  that  I  am  homesick  for 
you  or  the  Fraulein  with  curls,  or  little  blue¬ 
eyed  Lisa,  or  German  Leberwurst.  Not  a 
bit  of  it. 

Come,  Eugene,  listen,  and  I  will  tell  you 
how  it  is.  I  am  sick  of  the  atmosphere 
here.  One  can  do  nothing  in  the  face  of 
organized  Philistinism.  America  has 
changed  visibly.  I  think  it  is  Hawthorne 
who  observes  that  after  a  stay  abroad  one 
loses  two  homes:  our  foreign  home  is  lost 
to  us,  and  we  find  our  native  country  en¬ 
tirely  changed.  Why,  bless  me,  there  is 
no  one  to  talk  to,  no  one  with  whom  to 
share  one’s  aspirations,  no  one  to  give 
kindly  counsel;  alone,  alone,  everlastingly 
alone,  one  walks  along  the  busiest  streets. 
But  when  I  reach  my  bachelor  quarters,  I 
am  alone  no  longer.  The  room  is  filled 


140 


FROM  LAND  TO  LAND 


with  the  forms  of  absent  friends,  who,  four 
thousand  miles  away,  are  nearer  to  me  than 
the  acquaintances  close  at  hand. 

What  have  I  done?  What  am  I  doing? 
Well,  it  is  pretty  difficult  work  for  a  young 
physician  in  a  city  like  this,  and  particularly 
if  he  have  peculiar  ideas  about  his  pro¬ 
fession.  I  am  not  making  a  fortune,  but 
am  getting  along  slowly.  I  struggle  stub¬ 
bornly,  but  am  not  confident  of  success.  It 
is  work  without  hope,  I  fear.  Humanity 
is  diseased,  there  is  no  doubt  of  it;  and  the 
aggregate  of  evil  increases  with  each  new 
birth.  I  am  not  surprised  that  God  once 
destroyed  the  earth;  it  is,  however,  a  mat¬ 
ter  of  wonder  to  me  that  He  has  not  re¬ 
peated  the  act  an  indefinite  number  of  times. 
The  great  mass  of  us  are  simply  so  much 
bone  and  flesh,  purely  animals  after  all,  in 
whom  exist  certain  arrested  moral  tenden¬ 
cies  that  we  term  religious  feelings,  which 
have  come  down  from  primitive  times  when 
we  were  savages.  Bah! 

io  141 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


Now,  dear  Eugene,  I’ll  write  no  more, 
or  you  will  think  I  am  a  barbarian.  And 
you  would  be  right  in  your  diagnosis. 
Probe  me  deeply  enough,  and  you  will  find 
that  I  am  suffering  from  barbarism  of  the 
heart,  which  the  empty  jingles  of  the  syna¬ 
gogue  cannot  cure.  I  want  a  truer  melody, 
and  I  must  ring  it  out  somehow. 

With  hearty  greetings  to  your  dear  ones 
and  all  loving  friends, 


Yours, 


David. 


II 

Caroline  to  Julka 
I  really  cannot  understand,  dearest  Julka, 
how  you  can  write  in  such  a  dissatisfied 
strain.  Is  the  world  arrayed  against  you? 
How  dreadful,  to  be  sure!  And  is  there 
no  friendship  in  the  universe?  That  is  a 
perfect  shame,  and  I  blush  for  the  universe. 
And  you  write  such  atrocious  sentiments 
under  a  German  sky !  Why,  I  thought  you 


142 


FROM  LAND  TO  LAND 


German  young  ladies  were  too  practical 
to  indulge  in  such  reveries.  Are  you  in 
love,  dearest  Julka? 

You  err  in  demanding  so  much  from  peo¬ 
ple.  The  world  exacts  from  us  more  than 
we  can  exact  from  it,  and  our  duty  is  not  to 
indulge  in  pleasant  dreams  of  impossible 
ideals,  which  soon  become  moody  and 
sickly  visions,  but  to  settle  ourselves  to 
useful  work  of  some  kind,  however  humble. 
Don’t  fancy  that  I  am  above  reproach — I 
am  too  conscious  of  my  shortcomings — but, 
believe  me,  it  is  a  matter  of  the  profoundest 
regret  to  see  so  many  Jewesses  entirely  at 
a  loss  what  to  do.  Their  sole  aim  seems  to 
be  marriage,  and  when  that  is  unattainable 
they  drift  into  open  sea  and  display  an 
irresolution  and  vacuousness  which  are 
pitiable. 

I  fancy  the  training  of  most  of  us  is  to  be 
blamed  for  it  all.  I  am  afraid  that  our  edu¬ 
cation  is  showy  and  superficial:  mere  ac- 


142 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


complishments  but  no  accomplishment.  Is 
this  an  exaggeration? 

Now  I  do  not  want  to  preach  as  if  I  were 
a  rabbi’s  daughter,  so  I’ll  change  the  topic 
for  a  more  pleasing  theme.  We  organized 
last  week  a  sewing  society,  from  which,  of 
course,  all  gossip  is  to  be  excluded,  but 
about  which  gossip  will  be  busy,  if  we  are 
enabled  to  carry  out  our  plans.  We  pro¬ 
pose  to  do  a  great  many  things,  and  hope 
to  succeed.  I  shall  not  gratify  your  curi¬ 
osity  any  more  on  this  topic  just  at  present, 
but  as  soon  as  we  are  fairly  at  work  shall 
write  at  greater  length. 

I  have  just  finished  Heyse’s  In  Paradise . 
It  does  not  please  me — possibly  the  English 
translation  is  to  blame.  But  it  seems  so 
unreal,  and  the  characters  are  imaginary. 
Then  the  tale  is  morally  unsatisfying,  and 
does  not  brace  one  for  real  life,  but  fills 
the  reader  with  vague,  restless  thoughts. 
Of  course,  you  are  scandalized  by  my  esti- 


144 


FROM  LAND  TO  LAND 


mate  of  your  Heyse,  but  I  cannot  help  it. 
With  kind  remembrances  to  your  parents, 
and  trusting  to  hear  from  you  soon, 

Your  friend, 

Caroline. 

P.  S.  I  passed  a  charming  summer  at 
Richfield  Springs,  and  made  many  pleasant 
friends.  Prince  Right  was  not  among 
them,  but  I  am  not  at  all  anxious. 

Ill 

David  to  Eugene 

Spare  your  reproaches.  Sei  artig,  old 
fellow,  and  don’t  scold.  I  have  joined 
the  Society  for  Ethical  Culture.  Its  philos¬ 
ophy  is  of  no  moment  to  me;  its  practical 
work,  however,  fires  my  soul.  I  think  I 
have  found  what  I  yearned  for,  and  have 
already  enrolled  myself  as  visiting  physi¬ 
cian.  I  visit  families  of  the  Catholic  chil¬ 
dren  who  attend  our  kindergarten  and 
school,  learn  their  ailments,  physic  them, 


145 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


report  cases  of  destitution  to  the  relief 
committee,  and  so  the  work  goes  on.  Of 
course,  it  is  not  all  hard  work:  we  have 
talks,  conversations,  lectures,  receptions. 
You  remember  Schiller’s  dictum: 

Wenn  gute  Reden  sie  begleiten, 

Dann  fliesst  die  Arbeit  munter  fort. 

By  the  step  I  have  taken  I  have  cut  my¬ 
self  off  from  the  synagogue.  But  what  care 
I  for  ten  thousand  synagogues?  They  do 
nothing  but  pray,  pray,  pray,  until  they 
weary  God  out  of  countenance.  I  know 
how  strict  you  are,  Eugene,  but  if  you  were 
living  here,  and  saw  how  petrified  Judaism 
has  become,  you  would  not  blame  my 
course.  Then  they  talk  such  rot  in  the  pul¬ 
pits,  mere  echoes,  boy,  mere  echoes,  while 
the  clear,  emphatic  utterance  is  wanting. 
There  is  no  effort  made  to  ameliorate  the 
lower  classes,  no  organized  attempt  to 
raise  them  to  a  higher  plane. 

What  are  the  lectures  about?  Well, 


146 


FROM  LAND  TO  LAND 


well,  the  lecturer  is  a  noble  fellow,  though 
he  does  not  sometimes  seem  to  know  his 
own  mind.  It  is  not  new  to  me,  his  whole 
repertoire.  It  is  simply  a  kind  of  Ameri¬ 
canized  philosophy  of  Fichte  the  elder, 
idealized  ethics  joined  to  practical  char¬ 
itable  work.  He  bows  out  the  Creator,  it  is 
true,  as  a  personal,  intelligent  Being,  and 
deifies  the  Moral  Order,  but  is  an  agnostic, 
rather  than  an  atheist.  He  does  not  believe 
in  the  efficacy  of  prayer,  but  in  the  efficacy 
of  effort.  I  think  he  rather  shoots  over  the 
heads  of  the  people,  and  rarely  touches 
their  hearts.  But — but  anyway  it  is  pleas¬ 
ant  to  listen  to  a  superb  intellectual  address 
from  a  cultured  man,  a  present-day  stoic. 

Ah,  old  fellow,  what  would  der  Papa  say 
if  he  saw  me  among  the  advance  guard  of 
culture,  which  has  left  the  synagogue  a  way 
behind?  Would  he  not  be  scandalized? 
But  if  he  met  me  among  the  hovels  and 
tenements,  he  would  say  that  humanity  is 


147 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


above  and  beyond  Judaism.  I  am  not  cer¬ 
tain,  however,  that  I  would  have  joined, 
if  I  saw  similar  philanthropic  zeal  and  less 
ecclesiastical  old  clothes  among  the  syna¬ 
gogues. 

Do  form  a  branch  in  Kempen  among  the 
red-hot  Hasidim.  I  will  send  you  circulars, 
etc.,  together  with  the  photograph  of 

David. 

IV 

Caroline  to  Julka 

I  am  rather  tired  this  morning,  dearest 
Julka,  for  I  had  a  very  busy  day  yesterday. 
In  the  afternoon  our  industrial  school  held 
its  annual  exhibition.  There  were  about  two 
hundred  little  Jewesses,  wrho  are  gratui¬ 
tously  taught  sewing  and  light  handiwork. 
It  was  a  lovely  sight  to  see  them,  the  chil¬ 
dren  of  the  poorest  immigrants,  given  thus 
an  opportunity  to  learn  useful  employment. 
Many  of  the  girls  of  our  sewing  society 


148 


FROM  LAND  TO  LAND 


attend  these  schools — there  are  several  of 
them — regularly,  and  do  their  utmost  to 
refine  the  children.  And  when  the  affair 
was  over,  my  brother  hurried  me  to  the 
Hebrew  Free  School  to  see  the  classes  there. 
If  I  tell  you  that  there  are  twelve  hundred 
boys  and  girls  attending  these  schools  in 
different  parts  of  the  city,  and,  besides  in¬ 
struction  in  Hebrew  and  our  holy  religion, 
receive  clothing,  and  are  spurred  on  by 
valuable  money  prizes,  you  may  have  a  faint 
conception  of  the  amount  of  good  accom¬ 
plished,  because  otherwise  these  children 
would  fall  a  prey  to  the  missionaries. 

But  that  is  not  all.  To  give  you  a  just 
idea  of  how  charitable  our  people  are,  I 
would  take  you  to  the  splendid  new  orphan 
asylum,  which  cost  $400,000,  and  maintains 
four  hundred  orphans.  I  would  have  you 
accompany  me  to  two  homes  for  the  aged 
and  infirm,  to  our  hospital,  open  to  all 
creeds,  to  our  societies  for  protecting  Jewish 


149 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


children,  to  our  down-town  Sabbath  schools 
for  poor  children,  which  are  suported,  in 
part,  by  pupils  of  a  synagogue  school.  I 
would  have  you  enter  the  office  of  our 
charities,  and  learn  therefrom  how  carefully 
and  systematically  the  needs  of  our  poor  are 
supplied.  I  would  ask  you  to  follow  the 
district  visitors  on  their  rounds  and  learn 
how  they  strive  to  relieve  suffering  and  desti¬ 
tution. 

I  am  feeling  more  and  more  proud  of 
being  a  Jewess.  Of  course,  much  more  re¬ 
mains  to  be  done,  and  the  constant  stream 
of  foreign  immigration  is  taxing  our  ener¬ 
gies.  When  you  reflect  on  the  fact  that  the 
poor,  the  weak,  the  destitute,  the  unfortu¬ 
nate  ever  seek  our  shores,  you  will  under¬ 
stand  how  laudable  are  the  efforts  of  our 
synagogues  to  aid  the  suffering.  We  do 
not  advertise  our  charity,  like  some  creeds 
and  vendors  of  moral  nostrums;  we  deem  it 
simply  our  duty,  and  this  is  our  reward. 


150 


FROM  LAND  TO  LAND 


You  ought  to  have  heard  the  sermon  in 
our  synagogue  last  Sabbath.  It  was  really 
grand.  It  was  an  exhortation  to  the  people 
to  stand  still  and  have  faith  in  God.  The 
rabbi  told  us  to  hold  our  peace  and  let  God 
work  out  divine  issues,  and  not  worry  if 
matters  appear  gloomy.  He  claimed  that 
soon  religion  will  be  as  much  a  fashion  as 
charity  is,  and  that  Israel  will  again  take 
pride  in  its  distinctive  rites,  which,  “  hoary 
with  the  snows  of  a  thousand  years,”  are 
not  to  be  criticised  by  boys  “  fresh  from 
school,  and  people  who  ought  to  go  there 
again.”  He  said  that — Well,  I’ll  not  bore 
you  any  longer,  but  close  with  the  kindest 
remembrances. 


Caroline. 


P.  S.  We  are  going  to  have  an  early 
winter,  I  fear.  Have  you  begun  to  cover 
your  pumps  and  rose-bushes  with  straw  ? 


151 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


V 

David  to  Eugene 

Write  me  down  as  an  ass,  old  fellow,  a 
most  insatiate  ass.  I  am  in  the  lowest  valley 
of  humiliation.  I  could  fast  even  if  it  were 
Purim.  That  I  could  have  been  such  a  mon¬ 
strous  fool !  How  art  thou  fallen,  Lucifer, 
son  of  the  morning !  Cover  me  with  sack¬ 
cloth,  strew  me  with  ashes,  for  I  am  a  con¬ 
summate  dolt. 

You  see,  last  Wednesday  afternoon  I 
went  to  visit  a  Mrs.  McCafferty,  whose 
youngest  son  was  suffering  from  stomach¬ 
ache.  I  was  told  of  the  fact  by  Patrick  Mc¬ 
Cafferty,  his  brother,  aged  five,  who  attends 
our — not  mine  any  longer — kindergarten. 
I  found  the  babe  yelling  like  an  infidel.  I 
quieted  it  soon  enough,  and  was  going  down 
the  stairs,  when  I  heard  a  loud  cry.  I 
turned,  and  rapidly  ran  up  the  stairs.  When 
I  reached  the  top  floor,  the  cries  grew 


152 


FROM  LAND  TO  LAND 


fainter.  Through  a  partly  open  door  I  saw 
a  group  of  girls  by  a  bedside.  I  knocked  at 
the  door,  and  it  yielded  to  my  pressure.  I 
saw  a  dying  woman  on  the  bed.  She  was 
repeating  the  Shema‘,  while  the  tears  of  the 
girls  were  falling  fast.  I  told  them  that  I 
was  a  physician,  and  tried  to  ease  her,  but 
she  died  in  a  few  minutes. 

One  of  the  girls,  who  was  richly,  though 
plainly,  dressed,  went  into  the  inner  room, 
and  asked  me  to  follow  her.  There,  upon 
the  sofa,  another  young  lady  whom  they 
called  Charlotte,  I  think,  or  Caroline,  was 
telling  stories  to  a  couple  of  children. 
When  they  told  her  of  the  mother’s  death, 
her  bright  eyes  became  filled  with  tears,  and 
then  they  began  to  talk  together.  At  last 
they  turned  to  me,  that  is,  Carrie  did,  and 
told  me  how  matters  stood.  They  were 
members  of  a  sewing  society,  and  visited  the 
poor  of  their  faith. 

And  now  listen.  I  gave  them  my  card, 


153 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


and  said  I  was  connected  with  the  Society 
for  Ethical  Culture.  You  should  have 
seen  Carrie  flash  up,  while  the  others  looked 
daggers  at  me,  as  if  I  was  a  monster.  Then 
Caroline  softened  somewhat,  and  told  me 
that  they  were  sorry  that  they  had  given  me 
any  annoyance,  and  bowed  me  to  the  door. 

Troubles  come  in  squadrons.  I  called 
that  evening  on  my  aunt  Sarah,  and  told 
her  the  circumstances.  Scarcely  had  I 
ended,  when  the  bell  rang,  and  in  walked 
that  identical  Caroline  with  her  father, 
Rosenthal,  the  banker.  She  started,  and  I 
started,  and  my  aunt  laughed,  while  old 
Rosenthal  looked  grim.  The  old  fellow 
is  the  image  of  your  grandfather,  pimples 
on  the  nose  and  all,  and  that  made  me  feel 
at  home  at  once.  I  think  I  created  a  favor¬ 
able  impression.  After  an  hour’s  talk,  I 
became  convinced  of  one  fact — that  the 
Jews  are  doing  their  duty,  and  that  the  syna¬ 
gogue  is  alive  after  all.  I  never  listened  to 


154 


FROM  LAND  TO  LAND 


a  more  eloquent  advocate  than  Miss  Caro¬ 
line,  and  it  truly  surprised  me  to  hear  of 
the  vastness  of  organized  charity  in  the 
Jewish  community.  The  old  fellow  did  not 
rail  at  ethical  culture,  but  predicted  that  it 
would  die  in  a  few  years,  when  the  novelty 
had  worn  off.  He  thought  it  had  some  good 
elements,  but  more  bad  ones. 

Say,  old  fellow,  after  accompanying  the 
two  in  the  moonlight  to  their  home — it 
was  on  my  way,  of  course — I  don’t  sympa¬ 
thize  with  Job  or  Lamentations  any  more, 
but  echo  Solomon’s  words :  “  Stay  me  with 
dainties,  refresh  me  with  apples,  for  I  am 
love-sick.” 


David. 


VI 


Caroline  to  Julka 

I  must  apologize,  dearest  Julka,  for  hav¬ 
ing  neglected  to  write  you  for  so  long  a 
time,  but  I  know  that  when  I  tell  you  I  am 
engaged  it  will  satisfy  you.  He  is  a  physi- 


155 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


cian,  of  fair  practice,  and  a  noble  fellow — 
Dr.  David  Brand.  He  studied  in  Germany, 
loves  the  Germans,  and  certainly  would 
have  lost  his  heart  had  he  met  you. 

Fondly  yours, 

Caroline. 

P.  S.  David  is  really  a  “  brand  from 
the  burning.”  I  have  already  reclaimed 
him  from  lots  of  “  isms.”  Indeed,  I  made 
my  marriage  conditional  upon  his  abandon¬ 
ing  what  I  term  the  Society  for  Mythical 
Culture.  “  I  congratulate,”  I  hear  you 
say.  Surely,  you  do  not  think  me  unjust  in 
my  demand. 


156 


A  RABBI’S  WIFE 

She  openeth  her  mouth  with  wisdom. 

— Proverbs. 

“  I  can’t  stir  an  inch — not  an  inch. 
Botheration !  Here’s  a  pretty  state  for  a 
man  to  be  in!  What  shall  I  do?  ” 

The  young  rabbi  almost  cried  in  his 
despair  on  as  lovely  a  Sabbath  morning  as 
ever  dawned.  All  gold  and  sparkling  were 
the  sunbeams  without;  the  cool,  bracing  air 
invited  a  jaunt.  Upon  the  hanging  vine  the 
merry  blackbirds  were  sporting  at  ease. 
Yet  he  of  all  men  was  cruelly  tied  down  to 
his  couch — a  victim  of  enthusiasm  and 
rheumatism,  both  dangerous  to  young  min¬ 
isters.  He  would  go  out  in  the  damp,  de¬ 
spite  the  protestations  of  his  wife,  to  at¬ 
tend  the  funeral  of  a  poor  woman  who  did 
not  belong  to  his  congregation.  He  would 
read  the  services  unabridged  at  the  open 


ii 


157 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


grave  amid  falling  rain.  He  would  catch  a 
villainous  cold,  which  defied  the  skill  and 
patience  of  the  good  Dr.  Dosem  and  was 
to  stretch  him  on  his  back  for  three  long, 
weary  weeks. 

“  I  did  so  want  to  preach  to-day.  Am 
afraid  the  people  will  think  me  lazy.  It  is 
certainly  not  fair  to  them  to  stay  away  in 
this  fashion.  Perhaps  I  can  get  up  after 
all — it  is  only  a  question  of  will-power. 
How  bright  it  is  in  the  sun !  ”  he  reflected  as 
he  gazed  wistfully  at  the  sky.  “  All  right, 
Mr.  Sunbeam,  I  am  bound  to  catch  you  out 
there,  if  you  wait  a  moment  or  two.  So 
here  goes.  Up  !  ” 

There  was  no  up  for  him,  despite  the 
most  persistent  effort,  but  a  decided  down, 
down,  down ! 

“  Trying  to  get  up  again,  you  dreadful, 
dreadful  man,”  exclaimed  a  rather  diminu¬ 
tive  woman  with  a  wealth  of  curls  about 
her  head  and  a  sparkling  glow  in  her  eyes. 


158 


A  rabbi’s  wife 


“  Why  will  you  not  obey  orders,  sir,  and 
keep  to  your  couch,  sir,  and  not  shock  your 
nerves  by  absurdly  tumbling  on  the  floor, 
sir?  And  in  such  an  undignified  posi¬ 
tion,  too!  There,  there.  Now  you  are 
comfortable  again.  ”  The  process  of  put¬ 
ting  him  right  once  more  could  not  have 
been  more  rapid. 

“  But  it  is  Saturday,  Esther.  Just  think 
of  that!  ”  And  he  groaned. 

“  Well,  suppose  it  is  Saturday.  What 
of  it?” 

“  But  my  sermon,  my  sermon!  ” 

“  Well,  what  is  the  matter  with  your 
sermon?  ” 

“  Why,  I  can’t  go  to  the  temple  to 
preach,”  he  rejoined  complainingly.  “  That 
is  the  trouble,  my  child.  Could  anything  be 
more  distressing?  ” 

“  Daniel,  you  certainly  are  a  funny  man. 
Suppose  you  do  not  preach.  Surely  they  will 
excuse  you.  Perhaps  they  will  be  glad.” 


159 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


And  she  smiled  at  him  with  enough  roguish¬ 
ness  to  drive  away  any  ordinary  case  of 
despair. 

“  But,  I  can’t  excuse  myself,  Esther. 
Here  it  is  three  long  weeks  since  I  preached, 
just  think  of  it.”  And  again  he  groaned 
louder  and  more  dolefully  than  before.  He 
was  in  bad  shape  undoubtedly. 

“  Come,  come,  Daniel,  be  sensible.  The 
world  goes  on  all  the  same,  does  it  not? 
The  temple  has  not  closed.  The  sun  still 
shines  as  brightly  as  ever.  Come,  be  a 
good  boy,  and  forget  all  about  the  sermon. 
There,  read  the  morning  paper.  It  is  full 
of  news.  Just  look  at  that  first  page  article 
about  woman’s  rights  in  Turkey.”  And  she 
smothered  his  forehead  with  kisses,  driving 
away  the  ugly  frowns  that  had  gathered. 

“  It  is  very  easy  for  you,  madam,  to 
jest,”  said  the  Rev.  Daniel  Hart,  refusing 
to  be  comforted.  “  You  are  only  a  rabbi’s 
wife.  You  don’t  have  to  preach.  It  is  no 


160 


A  rabbi’s  wife 


trouble  to  you  to  consider  the  situation 
coolly.” 

Only  a  rabbi’s  wife !  The  hour  had 
come.  Don’t  have  to  preach !  Could  any 
opportunity  be  better?  The  golden  mo¬ 
ment  for  which  she  had  patiently  waited  and 
for  whose  responsibilities  she  was  amply 
prepared  was  now  at  hand.  There  was  to 
be  no  more  delay. 

“  Dear  husband,”  she  said  without  any 
tremor  in  her  voice  that  might  betray  her 
plan,  “  am  I  not  a  sensible  woman?  ” 

“  Why,  of  course,  you  are.” 

“  And  have  I  not  brains?  ” 

“  What  a  ridiculous  question?  Who 
could  doubt  it?  ” 

“  And  have  I  not  a  heart  and  sensi¬ 
bility?  ” 

“  Yes,  yes,  yes !  But  why  these  questions, 
you  foolish,  foolish  child?” 

“  And  have  I  not  studied  with  you  and 
learned  from  you,  and  am  I  not  proud  of 


161 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


my  religion  and  glad  to  do  my  share  to  aid 
and  to  cheer?  ” 

“  Esther,  why  have  you  grown  so  very- 
serious  ?  What  are  you  planning?”  And 
he  gazed  wonderingly  at  his  wife.  It  was 
a  new  role  she  was  assuming. 

“  Why  have  I  grown  so  serious?  ”  she 
repeated  with  just  a  little  scorn  in  her  voice. 
“  Do  you  think  that  I  am  a  child?  Or  a 
doll,  forsooth?  Must  not  a  rabbi’s  wife 
be  serious?  Come,  let  me  preach  to-day, 
dearest.  I  promise  you  that  I  shall  do  my 
duty,  and  you  will  never  regret  it.  Let  me 
preach  in  your  stead !  ” 

“  You  preach?  ” 

“  Daniel,  it  is  high  time  that  I  should 
try  to  realize  the  ideal  which  you  have  al¬ 
ways  held  before  me.  If  Miriam,  the  lead¬ 
er’s  sister,  led  her  women  in  song  at  an  era 
of  national  danger  three  or  four  thousand 
years  ago,  why  shall  not  the  rabbi’s  wife 
to-day  lead  her  people  in  speech,  when  our 


162 


A  rabbi’s  wife 

religion  has  reached  a  critical  period,  and 
women’s  aid  may  not  be  spurned?  Dear 
husband,  I  entreat  you,  give  your  consent. 
Do  not  hesitate.  Let  not  the  opportunity 
pass  by.” 

“  But  the  president,”  he  interrupted. 
“  There’s  the  difficulty.  You  know  he  is 
not  so  easily  managed.  Will  you  see  him 
and  gain  his  consent  ?  That  would  clear  the 
situation.” 

“  I  shall  see  his  wife  at  once,”  the 
triumphant  little  woman  replied,  “  and  get 
her  consent.  That  will  answer,  I  warrant 
you.” 

“  All  right,  Esther,  have  your  own  way 
as  usual.  Only  do  not  blame  me,  if  it  turns 
out  a  failure.  You  understand  that.” 

“  It  shall  turn  out  no  failure,  but  a  suc¬ 
cess  in  every  way,”  was  her  answer,  as  she 
smiled  and  left  the  room  so  rapidly  that 
her  good  man  had  no  time  to  consider  the 
matter. 

«jz  \|/  \|# 


163 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


An  hour  or  two  later,  during  a  pause  in 
the  service,  the  congregation  was  astounded 
to  see  a  prim  little  figure  mount  the  pulpit. 

“It  is  Mrs.  Hart,  Mrs.  Hart!”  ran 
from  mouth  to  mouth,  and  there  was  a  wild 
straining  of  necks  to  catch  a  good  look  at 
her  audaciousness.  What  could  it  all  mean  ? 
What  was  the  matter?  Is  she  crazy?  was 
the  thought  uppermost  in  their  minds. 
Crazy?  No,  dear,  good  ladies,  and  dear, 
kind  gentlemen.  Not  crazy  at  all — don’t 
you  believe  it? — but  a  sane  Jewess  with  her 
head  and  her  heart  in  the  right  place. 
Sane  from  top  to  toe.  Sane  from  ringlet  to 
sandals.  Sane  from  the  sparkle  of  her  eye 
to  the  flounce  of  her  dress.  Never  a  saner 
woman  in  all  Jewry  from  the  day  of  the 
gentle  Beruria  to  the  time  of  Judith  Monte- 
fiore.  But  hush,  hush! — she  is  speaking. 
Are  there  any  reporters  here  ?  Is  the  editor 
of  Israel's  Trump  at  hand?  Yes,  in¬ 
deed — there  he  sits  in  all  his  dignity.  He 


164 


A  rabbi’s  wife 


is  evidently  surprised,  but  not  disconcerted, 
for  he  is  ready  for  any  emergency.  Hush, 
no  whispering,  please.  What  is  she  saying? 
Silence,  good  people,  silence !  Do  not  dis¬ 
turb  the  service.  How  radiant  she  is ! 
What  a  charming  preacher!  Just  listen  to 
her.  Was  such  a  sermon  ever  heard  in 
Jerusalem  or  Squedunk? 

“  I  know  you  are  all  surprised,  dear 
friends,  to  see  me  in  this  pulpit,  are  you  not? 
But  my  husband  is  still  unable  to  preach 
to  you,  I  regret  to  say,  and  as  I  am  his 
wife  and  helpmate,  I  deemed  it  my  duty, 
with  his  consent,  to  come.  That  is  the 
secret  of  my  presence.  There  is  no  further 
mystery.  But,  even  if  I  were  no  rabbi’s 
wife,  that  I  am  a  Jewess  is  enough  to  justify 
me  in  thus  addressing  you.  I  need  no  other 
badge  of  authority,  I  assure  you.  If  the 
merit  of  Jewish  women  redeemed  our 
fathers,  so  runs  the  old  tradition,  from  their 
captivity,  tell  me,  O  women  of  Israel  to-day, 


165 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


you  mothers  and  daughters,  shall  we  not  do 
our  share  to  redeem  our  people  from  cap¬ 
tivity  in  our  era?  For  it  is  a  captivity,  be¬ 
lieve  me,  as  crushing  as  any  in  the  past.  Let 
those  who  will  be  silent.  Some  of  us  can 
and  must  speak.” 

The  congregation  was  awed  by  her 
spirited  manner  and  words,  which  came 
clear-coined  from  the  mint  of  her  soul. 
The  awe  continued  until  the  close.  There 
was  no  break  in  the  rapt  attention.  Evi¬ 
dently,  the  people  rather  liked  it,  and  would 
have  applauded  energetically  under  other 
conditions. 

Now,  perhaps  you  expect  me  to  report 
that  address  in  full,  ever)7  word,  every  tone, 
every  gesture.  Well,  I  would  if  I  could, 
but  Mrs.  Hart  was  unable  to  give  me  her 
copy,  for  she  had  none.  She  had  made  no 
notes.  It  was  a  purely  extemporaneous 
effort.  Yet  I  remember  some  of  it  which 
made  too  vivid  an  impression  to  be  forgot- 


166 


A  rabbi’s  wife 


ten.  The  subject  was  the  need  of  spirituali¬ 
ty  in  Judaism.  She  thought  that  there  was 
much  truth  in  current  criticism  of  our  reli¬ 
gion,  as  it  is  in  the  average  individual,  a  reli¬ 
gion  of  mere  forms,  whose  inner  spirit  is 
not  always  insisted  upon.  But  as  one  breath 
of  life  is  wrorth  a  million  fossils,  even  so  are 
the  spiritual  elements  most  important.  She 
regarded  as  failures  all  religious  services 
which  did  not  appeal  to  the  heart  and  the 
intelligence  and  did  not  impel  to  right  liv¬ 
ing.  God  did  not  need  to  be  reminded  of 
our  wants,  as  if  He  were  a  kind  of  useful 
machine,  but  we  ought  to  be  reminded  of 
our  obligations. 

It  was  Judaism  which  was  adapted  to  be¬ 
come  a  universal  religion  of  simple  good¬ 
ness  and  kindness  to  all  as  members  of  one 
family  with  one  Father.  No  leaders  should 
be  tolerated  who  preached  clannishness  and 
exclusiveness.  This  clannishness  was  a  fre¬ 
quent  cause  of  prejudice  against  us,  and 


167 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


was  utterly  out  of  touch  with  a  liberal  and 
fair-minded  creed,  such  as  we  claim  Judaism 
to  be. 

But  most  impressive  were  her  thoughts  in 
reference  to  women  in  the  synagogue.  She 
claimed  that  the  exclusive  sovereignty  of 
men  has  led  to  a  certain  hardness  and  harsh¬ 
ness  which  can  no  longer  be  endured.  The 
synagogue  needed  women’s  influence  for  its 
grandest  development,  and  no  refinement 
was  possible  when  women  were  thrust  aside 
as  dolls  or  inferior  beings.  To-day  our 
Jewish  girls,  as  a  class,  are  receiving  a 
better  education  than  our  boys;  they  remain 
longer  at  school  and  college ;  hence  they  are 
their  intellectual  superiors. 

“  You  women  are  to  blame.  Yes,  you 
are.  You  cannot  deny  it,”  so  ran  a  para¬ 
graph  which  I  distinctly  remember.  “  You, 
who  are  idly  content  to  be  fashion-plates, 
must  not  wonder  that  you  are  crushed  be¬ 
neath  the  load  of  your  weakness  and  indo- 


168 


A  rabbi’s  wife 


lence.  You  must  cease  to  give  over  your 
children  to  hirelings  to  influence  them  in 
their  early  years.  It  is  easy  to  transfer  your 
responsibilities;  but  it  is  at  a  terrible  cost  to 
the  children’s  souls.  You  must  enter  more 
into  their  lives,  and  watch  the  tell-tale  mood, 
even  if  you  fail  to  catch  the  latest  gossip  or 
miss  a  Saturday  matinee .  You  must  be 
more  than  lazy  Orientals  in  the  stir  and 
inspiration  of  American  life.” 

“  The  portion  from  the  Pentateuch  read 
this  week,”  she  continued,  “tells  of  the 
equipment  of  the  Mosaic  tabernacle.  It  is 
not  your  province  in  our  time  to  contribute 
yarn  and  thread,  silver  and  gold,  linen  and 
silk,  chains  and  bells,  rings  and  precious 
stones,  as  did  your  ancestors,  newly  eman¬ 
cipated  slaves,  in  their  deep  gratitude  to  the 
Almighty.  Let  yours  be  a  holier  task,  you 
with  your  culture,  refinement,  and  wealth, 
to  enter  the  temple  with  trustfulness,  with 
pride,  with  reverence,  with  gratitude,  with 


169 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


loyalty.  1  As  the  woman  is,  so  is  the  man,’ 
is  wonderfully  true  of  Judaism.  Be  priest¬ 
esses  in  the  household,  and  all  will  yet  be 
well.” 

sjs  4s  ♦ 

Mrs.  Hart  went  home  that  Sabbath  day 
in  the  best  of  humor.  How  she  escaped  the 
crowd  of  admirers  after  the  service,  she 
never  could  tell;  but  she  managed  it  satis¬ 
factorily,  and  the  people  were  very  con¬ 
siderate,  much  to  their  credit,  and  did  not 
delay  her.  They  were  stirred  to  their  very 
soul,  and  the  lesson  would  not  be  so  quickly 
lost.  Their  complacency  had  received  a 
severe  jolt,  it  is  true.  No  mere  man  would 
dare  scold  them  as  she  did,  but  they  felt 
the  better  for  the  castigation.  There  is  a 
sense  of  justice  deeply  rooted  in  most  of  us, 
and  the  women  in  particular  were  grateful 
for  having  seen  themselves  as  the  preacher 
saw  them. 

When  Mrs.  Hart  reached  home,  she 

170 


A  rabbi’s  wife 


found  her  husband  wildly  impatient.  What 
did  she  say?  How  did  they  like  it?  She 
lost  no  time  in  satisfying  his  masculine  curi¬ 
osity  on  these  points,  and  told  him  the  gen¬ 
eral  gist  of  her  remarks,  much  to  his  admira¬ 
tion  and  self-satisfaction,  for,  man-fashion, 
he  claimed  full  credit  for  the  entire  affair. 
It  was  his  rheumatism  that  was  to  be  con¬ 
gratulated,  as  without  that  she  never  would 
have  spoken  from  the  pulpit. 

“And  how  do  you  feel  now, Daniel?” 
she  asked. 

“  O,  decidedly  better,  Esther.  But  I 
hope  I  shall  have  the  ailment  next  week 
also.” 

“  I  certainly  don’t.  Why,  you  cannot 
imagine  how  uncomfortable  I  felt  facing 
that  congregation.  Once  is  enough,”  and 
she  laughed  at  her  husband. 

“  Hurrah  for  you!  We  have  begun  a 
reformation !  ”  and  he  laughed  with  her. 


171 


HOW  THE  DEBT  WAS  PAID 

’Tis  strange,  but  true;  for  truth  is  always  strange; 

Stranger  than  fiction. 

— Byron. 

The  young  preacher  sat  at  the  open  win¬ 
dow,  allowing  the  cool  breeze  free  play 
over  his  face  and  head,  when  the  bell  rang. 
The  door  opened,  and  in  came  four  smiling 
gentlemen. 

“  Ah,  my  friends,”  the  preacher  ex¬ 
claimed,  “  I  am  pleased  to  see  you.  Pray 
be  seated,  Mr.  Bluster.  Mr.  Fluster,  pray 
take  this  chair.  You  will  find  the  sofa  more 
comfortable,  gentlemen,”  said  he,  as  he 
noticed  Mr.  Spink  and  Mr.  Spank  settling 
themselves  nimbly  upon  two  piano  stools. 

“  Now,  friends,  what  is  your  pleasure?  ” 
and  the  preacher  resumed  his  seat. 

“  Well,  Mr.  Frank,”  said  Mr.  Bluster, 
“  we  have  the  honor  of  appearing  before 


172 


HOW  THE  DEBT  WAS  PAID 


you  as  a  committee,  of  which  I  am  chair¬ 
man.” 

“  Quite  an  honor,  I  am  sure,”  observed 
the  preacher,  glancing  carelessly  at  the  com¬ 
mittee.  “  Will  you  oblige  me  by  stating 
the  object  of  your  visit?  ” 

“  The  matter  is  simply  this:  we  are  all 
business  men,  and  we  don’t  propose  to 
waste  your  time  or  ours.  To  come  to  the 
point  at  once,  the  synagogue  don’t  pay.  All 
our  efforts  to  popularize  it  have  been  in  vain. 
Who  is  to  blame,  we  don’t  know.  We  have 
empty  'benches  and  an  empty  treasury. 
Now,  then,  we  must  remedy  the  matter,  or 
the  synagogue  must  cease  to  exist.” 

At  these  words  Mr.  Bluster  looked  at 
the  committee,  and  the  committee  looked 
admiringly  at  Mr.  Bluster. 

“  The  synagogue  must  cease  to  exist,  if 
we  don’t  remedy  matters,”  continued  Mr. 
Bluster,  “  and  to  think  of  such  a  result  is 
heart-rending,  gentlemen.  Our  holy  syna- 


12 


173 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


gogue,  in  which  our  fathers  worshipped,  is 
sacred  and  dear  to  us,  because  it  is  bound 
up  with  the  most  tender  memories.  Here 
many  of  us  were  joined  in  wedlock,  here  we 
lisped  our  prayers  in  infancy,  here  we  heard 
our  children  joining  their  prayers  with  ours. 
Youth  and  age,  boy  and  maid,  man  and 
woman,  rich  and  poor,  weak  and  strong, 
all — er — have  an  interest  in  our  shrine — 
er — wdiich  shall  never  fail  to  thrill  our 
souls — er — till  time  doth  cease — er — and 
empires  decay — er — 

It  was  not  surprising  that,  at  this  elo¬ 
quent  peroration,  Spink  drew  out  his  hand¬ 
kerchief,  and  Spank  raised  his  eyes  devoutly 
to  the  ceiling.  Mr.  Bluster’s  manner  was 
truly  affecting,  and  he  spoke  with  warm 
feeling  and  emphasis. 

It  was  not  unknown  to  the  preacher  that 
the  four  gentlemen  before  him  always  took 
a  deep  interest  in  the  synagogue  and  re¬ 
ceived  the  full  legal  interest  for  any  loans 


174 


HOW  THE  DEBT  WAS  PAID 


they  had  made  to  clear  off  its  indebtedness, 
presenting  their  coupons  quite  regularly  for 
payment.  It  was  also  not  unknown  to  the 
preacher  that  these  four  gentlemen  were 
partially  responsible  for  the  extravagant 
outlay  in  the  erection  of  the  synagogue 
three  years  before.  Bluster’s  brother-in-law 
was  the  architect.  Spink’s  partner’s  cousin 
was  the  carpenter.  Fluster’s  particular 
friend  was  the  mason.  Spank’s  son  was  the 
lawyer,  who  saw  that  the  purchase  was 
legally  made  and  paid  for.  Of  course,  these 
four  gentlemen  were  actuated  by  the  holiest 
and  purest  motives  in  making  the  shrine  as 
gorgeous  as  possible.  How  could  it  be 
otherwise  ? 

The  preacher,  too,  seemed  affected  by 
Mr.  Bluster’s  eloquence.  It  was  fully  two 
minutes  before  he  made  reply. 

“  Too  well,  my  friends,  I  know  the  state 
of  things,  and  I  am  glad,  heartily  glad,  that 
you  have  so  frankly  come  to  me  to  discuss 


175 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


the  matter.  I  have  long  noticed  the 
lethargy  in  our  midst.  I  have  tried,  earn¬ 
estly  tried,  to  awaken  the  proper  spirit,  and 
grieve  to  say  that  all  my  efforts  have  been 
fruitless.  I  would  gladly  hear  any  sugges¬ 
tion  you  have  to  make  on  this  topic,  and 
cordially  bid  you  be  as  open  as  you  please. 
I  am  not  at  all  thin-skinned,  and  am  not  dis¬ 
posed  to  shirk  any  blame  which  I  justly 
have  to  bear.” 

These  few  words  awakened  the  admira¬ 
tion  of  the  committee.  Spink  whispered  to 
Spank  that  the  preacher  was  a  good  fellow. 
Spank  said  to  Spink  that  he  had  never 
doubted  it.  Bluster  affirmed,  in  a  few  ex¬ 
pressive  glances,  that  he  was  the  preacher’s 
best  friend.  Fluster  indignantly  wanted  to 
know  whether  anybody  had  any  right  to 
find  fault  with  anybody  else.  Nobody 
seemed  disposed  to  excite  the  ire  of  Fluster, 
who  pathetically  grasped  the  preacher’s 
hand,  and  ejaculated: 


176 


HOW  THE  DEBT  WAS  PAID 


“  You  are  a  noble  fellow.” 

“  The  pride  of  the  congregation,”  said 
Bluster. 

“  Our  minister  and  our  guide,”  added 
Spink. 

“  We  shall  always  revere  you,  sir,”  said 
Spank. 

The  preacher  seemed  to  receive  these  ex¬ 
pressions  with  an  indifferent  air;  he  well 
knew  how  little  reliance  was  to  be  placed 
upon  fulsome  admiration;  so  he  said,  rather 
coldly:  “  Well,  Mr.  Bluster,  please  let  me 
hear  you  further  on  this  matter;  but  be 
careful  to  speak  as  frankly  as  possible.” 

“  Well,  Mr.  Frank,”  said  Mr.  Bluster, 
“  to  tell  you  the  honest  truth,  sir,  we  are  not 
satisfied  with  your  sermons.” 

“  I  am  truly  sorry,”  said  the  preacher. 
“  Please  tell  me  why  you  are  dissatisfied 
with  me.” 

“  With  you  we  are  not  dissatisfied,” 


177 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


quickly  replied  Bluster,  with  a  smile  which 
was  meant  to  express  the  utmost  good 
humor.  “  We  are  delighted  with  you,  sir. 
We  esteem  you,  we  love  you,  we  admire 
you,  we — ” 

“  But — ”  interrupted  the  preacher. 

Mr.  Bluster  paused. 

“  But — ”  repeated  the  preacher. 

“  But — but,  we  are  not  satisfied  with 
your  sermons,  sir.  They  are  cast  too  much 
in  the  old  mould,  sir.  We  live  in  a  modern 
age,  sir.  The  air  reeks  with  progress. 
Steam-boats,  steam-ploughs,  railroads — ” 

“  Explosions  and  collisions,  Mr.  Blus¬ 
ter,”  interrupted  the  preacher  once  more. 

“  We  must  have  in  our  pulpit  the  same 
law  of  progress  at  work,”  continued  Bluster, 
not  noticing  the  interruption.  “  Law  and 
progress,  progress  and  law,”  he  repeated, 
briskly  rubbing  his  hands.  “  It  is  an  age  of 
progress.  Away  with  the  old  coach  and  six. 
We  hear  the  snort  of  the  iron  horse.  New 


178 


HOW  THE  DEBT  WAS  PAID 


ideas,  currents,  movements.  The  air  is  full 
of  revolutions.  I  can’t  wear  my  father’s 
old  clothes;  why  should  I,  as  a  thinking 
man,  adopt  his  views?  I  can’t — ” 

“  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Bluster,”  said  the 
preacher,  “  but  I  have  often  heard  such 
thoughts  expressed  before.  There  is  a  great 
deal  of  froth  said  to-day  about  progress  and 
new  ideas.  The  snort  of  the  iron  horse, 
however,  doesn’t  make  a  man  more  honest 
or  more  dutiful.  Steam  hasn’t  exorcised 
selfishness.  The  demons  of  envy,  malice, 
and  uncleanness  still  devastate  the  hearts 
of  men,  even  if  progress  raises  costly  shrines 
to  God,  and  seeks  loans  on  second  mort¬ 
gages.  No,  sir.  I  always  get  angry  when 
I  hear  my  friends  using  such  cant  terms. 
Science,  you  know,  has  its  cant  as  well  as 
religion.” 

“You  may  be  right,  Mr.  Frank.  You 
may  be  right,  sir,”  repeated  Bluster,  with 
an  air  of  exceeding  candor. 


179 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


“  More  than  that,  sir.  I  am  right!”  re¬ 
plied  the  preacher  with  emphasis. 

“  Did  you  hear  what  he  said  about  sec¬ 
ond  mortgages?”  whispered  Fluster  to 
Spink. 

“  Yes,  and  I  thought  it  rather  personal,” 
retorted  Spink. 

“  Mr.  Preacher,”  said  Bluster  in  rather 
harsh  tones,  as  if  he  were  speaking  to  his 
office  boy.  “  We  have  drifted  from  the 
subject.” 

“  Well,  then,  please  drift  to  it  again  as 
soon  as  possible,”  said  the  preacher,  smiling. 
Mr.  Spink  smiled,  too;  but  he  caught 
Spank’s  gaze,  which  was  sternly  fixed  upon 
him,  and  Spink’s  smile  vanished.  As  for 
Fluster,  there  was  a  look  of  contempt  on 
his  face. 

“We  object  to  your  method  of  preach¬ 
ing,  your  manner  of  preaching,  and  your 
style  of  preaching,”  said  Bluster  in  a  loud 
voice. 


180 


HOW  THE  DEBT  WAS  PAID 


The  preacher  was  going  to  ask  the  differ¬ 
ence  between  method,  manner,  and  style, 
but  Bluster  continued: 

“  You  dwell  too  much  on  the  past. 
Your  pictures  are  taken  from  the  East. 
You  quote  Hebrew.  You  give  us  the  Bible, 
the  Bible,  the  Bible,  till  we  are  sick  of  it. 
We  want  ethics  to-day,  pure,  genuine  ethics, 
not  the  Bible  with  its  crude  ideas  of  moral¬ 
ity,  its  narrow  views  of  God,  its — ” 

“  As  a  servant  of  God,  Mr.  Bluster,  I 
can’t  allow  you  to  talk  in  that  strain  in  my 
presence.” 

“  I  have  the  floor,  Mr.  Preacher,  so 
please  don’t  interrupt.  We  must  have 
livelier  topics  in  the  pulpit,  sir.  The 
burning  questions  of  the  day  must  be  an¬ 
alyzed  there.  The  tariff,  reconstruction, 
society — ” 

“  The  emancipation  of  woman,”  said 
Fluster,  who  had  lately  lost  his  mother- 
in-law. 


181 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


“  Our  commercial  relations,”  said  Spink. 

“  The  Eastern  question,”  ventured 
Spank. 

“  But,  above  all,  Mr.  Preacher,  ethics. 
Everything  must  be  touched  from  the  ethi¬ 
cal  standpoint.  All  questions  must  be 
lighted  up  from  the  ethical  side.  All — ” 

“  By  heaven,  gentlemen,  I  will  endure 
this  no  longer,”  exclaimed  Mr.  Frank,  ris¬ 
ing  from  his  seat. 

“  What  do  you  mean,  sir?  ”  inquired 
Bluster,  in  his  blandest  tones. 

“  What  do  I  mean,  sir!  ”  repeated  the 
preacher,  looking  fiercely  at  the  quartette. 
“  I’ll  not  tell  you  what  I  mean.  Who  are 
you,  anyhow?  ” 

“  I  am  Samuel  Bluster,  sir,”  exclaimed 
that  gentleman  in  a  defiant  tone,  “  and  I’ll 
let  you  know  that  I  am  not  to  be  insulted. 
Who  pays  the  highest  for  his  seat  in  the 
synagogue?  Samuel  Bluster.  Who  has 
secured  the  most  members?  Samuel  Blus- 


182 


HOW  THE  DEBT  WAS  PAID 


ter.  Who  has  loaned  the  most  for  the 
building  fund?  Samuel  Bluster.  I  don’t 
want  to  boast,  sir.  I  don’t  want  to  blow 
my  trumpet,  like  other  people  who  shall  be 
nameless.  I  don’t  want  to  run  down  any¬ 
body.  But  if  modesty  didn’t  prevent  me,  if 
a  due  sense  of  decorum  didn’t  bind  me, 
I’d  let  the  world  know  something,”  and 
Mr.  Bluster  slapped  his  breast  with  his 
broad  hand. 

“  I  don’t  care  if  you  are  Mr.  Samuel 
Bluster,  and  I  don’t  care  what  your  crowd 
of  friends  and  retainers  say,”  retorted  the 
preacher.  “  I  mean  just  to  preach  the 
Bible,  the  Bible,  the  Bible,  as  long  as  I 
live,  and  for  your  twaddle  about  ethics  I 
don’t  care  a  snap.  Shall  I  preach  to  you 
ethics,  culled  from  a  German  professor’s 
note-book,  when  my  duty  is  to  preach  to 
you  religion  from  the  Bible  of  the  Al¬ 
mighty  God?  For  ethics,  friends,  is  only 
the  fruit,  but  religion  is  the  root.  Where 


188 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


you  fail  to  plant  religion,  you’ll  never  se¬ 
cure  ethics.  When  I  find  that  the  Law 
and  the  Prophets  are  obsolete,  I’ll  ransack 
among  my  note-books  for  Steinthal’s  lec¬ 
tures  on  ethics,  and  give  you  that  gentle¬ 
man’s  idea  of  Revelation  in  the  most  flow¬ 
ery  style,  with  all  the  accessories  of  fash¬ 
ionable  perfume  and  aristocratic  assem¬ 
blages.  But  until  that  time,  gentlemen, 
until  I  am  convinced  that  the  ethics  of  the 
Bible  and  the  Talmud  are  unsuitable  for 
our  age,  I  shall  take  my  text  from  the 
Bible  and  my  inspiration  from  the  daily 
needs  of  men.  I  am  no  man’s  slave,  much 
less  the  tool  or  the  lackey  of  a  congrega¬ 
tion.  I  shall  preach  what  I  think  proper  to 
preach,  and  have  no  idea  to  allow  the 
views  of  others  to  be  rammed  down  my 
throat.  In  the  pulpit  I  am  master,  or 
rather  teacher,  and  you  are  pupils.  I  do 
the  talking,  you  the  listening,  or  you  can  go 
to  sleep,  if  you  choose.  If  you  see  incon- 


184 


HOW  THE  DEBT  WAS  PAID 


sistencies  in  my  belief  and  practice,  criti¬ 
cise  freely,  and  expel  me  from  your  midst. 
But  to  come  here,  four  ordinary  men  like 
you,  who  know  well  enough  the  mysteries 
of  Wall  Street  and  the  counting-house,  but 
who  are  at  sea  in  religious  matters;  for 
you,  mere  landlubbers,  who  pay  me  as 
steersman,  to  come  here  and  tell  me  how  to 
steer,  is  too  much,  too  much,  gentlemen,  I 
assure  you.” 

Mr.  Frank  paused.  His  impetuous  de¬ 
livery  had  had  a  marked  effect.  No  con¬ 
version  could  have  been  more  rapid. 

“  Mr.  Bluster,”  said  Mr.  Spink,  “I 
think  we  can  let  Mr.  Frank  steer  us  a 
little  longer.” 

“A  little  longer!  Spink,”  exclaimed 
Spank;  “  always,  sir!  ” 

“  I  was  opposed  to  coming  here  from  the 
start,”  said  Fluster. 

Bluster  alone  was  obdurate.  He  would 
have  gladly  yielded  to  the  rest,  but  Samuel 


185 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


Bluster  was  proud,  Samuel  Bluster  was 
obstinate. 

“  But  how  clear  away  the  debt,  gentle¬ 
men?  ”  he  inquired. 

“  Before  you  talk  of  dollars  and  cents, 
there  is  a  far  holier  debt  to  be  paid,”  the 
preacher  earnestly  said.  “  It  is  a  debt 
reaching  centuries  back.  Throughout  the 
long  ages  never-failing  love  was  showered 
upon  us;  despite  persecution,  taunt,  and 
outrage,  we  are  alive  and  strong  to-day. 
The  centuries  are  musical  with  the  songs 
of  our  ancestors,  songs  of  faith  and  cour¬ 
age  and  devotion.  We  need  not  sing  all 
of  the  songs  they  sang,  for  we  suffer  not 
as  they  suffered,  we  are  not  despised  as  they 
were  despised.  But  one  song,  one  univer¬ 
sal  paean  of  loyalty  we  can  sing,  we  shall 
sing,  and  let  the  resounding  harmonies 
ascend  to  God  on  high.  He  demands  noth¬ 
ing  more  from  us :  only  loyalty  in  His  serv¬ 
ice.  Like  loyal  soldiers,  who  forget  the 


186 


HOW  THE  DEBT  WAS  PAID 


weary  bivouac,  the  hard  biscuit,  the  tramp 
in  the  morass,  when  the  sounds  of  battle 
are  heard,  so  should  we  Jews,  in  the  crisis 
of  to-day,  forget  the  trifles  of  custom  and 
ritual,  forget  the  jarring  rivalries,  the  di¬ 
versities  and  prejudices  of  sects,  all  ab¬ 
sorbed,  as  we  should  be,  in  the  struggle  for 
the  realization  on  earth  of  those  aspira¬ 
tions  and  yearnings,  of  which  all  the  creeds 
are  full,  but  which  have  found  in  Judaism 
their  truest  and  healthiest  expression.” 

“  And  the  debt  of  dollars  and  cents,  Mr. 
Preacher?  ”  said  Bluster,  inquiringly. 

“  Put  your  hands  in  your  pockets,  and 
pay  it,”  said  Mr.  Frank  curtly.  “  Ethics 
won’t  pay  it,  certainly.  The  synagogue 
deserves  either  to  live  or  to  die.  If  it  de¬ 
serves  to  live,  keep  it  alive.  If  not,  don’t 
expect  your  preacher  to  prescribe  sugar- 
coated  ethics  as  a  refrigerant,  or  to  dance 
to  the  fiddle  of  even  such  good-hearted  fel¬ 
lows  as  you  are.  I  know  you  have  all  come 


187 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


to  me  for  the  best :  so  take  my  answer.  If 
any  sacrifice  is  to  be  made,  you  can  sacrifice 
me  at  the  saving  to  you  of  so  many  dollars 
yearly;  but  don’t  expect  me  to  sacrifice  my 
convictions  at  the  cost  of  my  conscience.” 

And  the  young  preacher,  having  seen 
his  visitors  to  the  door,  returned  calmly  to 
his  seat  at  the  open  window. 


/ 


188 


ONLY  A  CHILD 


Who,  rowing  hard  against  the  stream, 

Saw  distant  gates  of  Eden  gleam, 

And  did  not  dream  it  was  a  dream. 

— Tennyson. 

A  dismal  January  morning.  A  thaw 
had  set  in,  and  made  the  streets  almost 
impassable.  Yesterday’s  snow  was  to-day’s 
slush.  On  Fifth  Avenue  the  reign  of  dirt 
prevailed;  what  fit  epithet  might  be  ap¬ 
plied  to  Hester  Street  as  it  sluggishly 
approaches  Baxter? 

A  girl  of  ten,  carrying  a  jug  of  milk, 
went  singing  along  the  street  in  the  early 
morning,  carefully  wending  her  way  amid 
wind  and  soft  ice.  Her  features  were 
irregular,  her  form  slightly  bent,  her 
countenance  pale  and  sunken.  Her  eyes 
alone  had  expressive  beauty,  and  being  set 
in  such  an  attenuated  frame,  they  were 
doubly  lustrous.  Her  hands  were  thin,  and 


13 


189 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


now  and  then  a  cough  escaped  her  colorless 
lips.  She  stopped  before  a  lofty  tenement, 
and  opening  the  door,  ran  quickly  up  three 
flights  of  stairs.  “  Here’s  the  milk, 
mamma.  I’ll  take  care  of  the  baby,  while 
you  get  breakfast  ready.  Come,  Benny, 
come,”  and  the  child  soon  had  the  babe  in 
her  arms,  singing  to  it  and  letting  it  play 
with  her  hair,  which  fell  profusely  on  her 
shoulders. 

An  uncarpeted  floor,  two  beds,  a  pine 
table,  a  chest  of  drawers,  walls,  whose 
bareness  was  relieved  by  an  illuminated 
picture  and  a  few  photographs,  constituted 
the  main  apartment  in  which  the  Goldsteins 
lived.  There  was  a  small  side-room,  occu¬ 
pied  by  a  lad  of  twelve.  The  father  had 
died  of  consumption  a  few  months  before. 
The  mother  earned  her  livelihood  as  a 
laundress  and  by  plain  sewing  when  she  had 
a  little  leisure.  The  boy  received  a  few 
dollars  a  week,  and  this  sum,  together  with 


190 


ONLY  A  CHILD 


her  own  earnings  and  the  interest  of  a 
small  amount  left  by  her  husband,  who  had 
been  a  member  of  the  Lodge  of  the  Free 
Sons  of  Israel,  was  barely  sufficient  to  make 
both  ends  meet.  They  were  from  Bavaria, 
and  had  emigrated  to  New  York  in  1867. 
For  a  time  fortune  smiled  upon  them,  but 
the  husband’s  ill  health  soon  incapacitated 
him  from  active  work,  and  gradually  re¬ 
duced  their  means,  so  they  were  forced  to 
live  in  a  Hester  Street  tenement-house, 
where  at  last  the  husband  died,  leaving  his 
wife  and  children  almost  penniless.  Kind 
friends,  as  poor  as  themselves,  did  all  in 
their  power  to  cheer  the  widow,  and  she, 
a  devout  Jewess,  rarely  repined,  but  strove 
to  be  satisfied  with  her  lot,  and  worked 
for  the  children’s  sake.  Without  any  de¬ 
lay,  Samuel  was  taken  from  school  and 
secured  a  position  as  cash  boy  in  a  depart¬ 
ment  store.  Fannie,  the  daughter,  wanted 
very  much  to  go  to  work,  too,  but  as  the 


191 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


child  seemed  delicate,  it  was  thought  best 
to  keep  her  at  school  for  a  year  longer. 

“  O  mamma,”  said  Fannie,  “  won’t  you 
hurry  please.  It’s  half  past  eight  already, 
and  I  don’t  want  to  be  late  at  school.” 

Mrs.  Goldstein  laughed  at  her  daughter’s 
impatience,  while  Sam,  who  had  just  en¬ 
tered  the  room,  joined  in  her  request. 

“  Come,  children,”  at  last  Mrs.  Gold¬ 
stein  said.  “Come,  sit  right  down.”  And 
soon  the  frugal  breakfast  was  eaten,  and 
Sam  and  Fannie  were  off. 

The  day  —  it  was  Friday  —  quickly 
passed.  For  some  unaccountable  reason, 
Mrs.  Goldstein  felt  much  worried.  It  was 
not  the  baby’s  fault,  for  Ben  was  in  his  best 
mood,  and  sat  quietly  on  the  bed  blinking 
at  the  wall,  or  when  he  was  put  on  the  floor 
he  unconcernedly  began  crawling  about. 
At  times  he  attempted  to  rise  on  his  feet, 
but  finding  it  impossible  to  execute  any  such 
movement,  he  purred  and  murmured,  full 
of  satisfaction,  on  all  fours. 


192 


ONLY  A  CHILD 


“  I  wish  I  could  send  Fannie  away,”  said 
Mrs.  Goldstein  to  herself.  “  She  is  always 
talking  of  the  green  fields.  I  found  a  rose 
under  her  pillow  a  little  while  ago.  It 
made  her  have  such  a  beautiful  dream,  so 
she  told  me.  She  coughs  dreadfully  at 
night,  too,  and  looks  so  bad.  I  think  I’ll 
write  a  note  to  the  kind  lady  who  came  here 
after  my  husband  died,  and  see  whether  she 
can  do  anything  for  Fannie.  I’ll  send  Sam 
with  the  letter  on  Sunday.  He’s  a  strong 
fellow,  and  that’s  some  comfort.  O  God,” 
sobbed  the  widow  in  a  revulsion  of  feeling, 
“  what  hope  have  I  in  this  bitter,  bitter 
world?  If  I  had  died  with  Morris,  how 
much  better  would  it  have  been !  ” 

Bubble,  bubble  from  the  floor.  Ben,  the 
irrepressible,  was  clapping  his  hands,  think¬ 
ing  it  was  a  special  performance  for  his 
benefit.  A  glance  at  him  made  her  forget 
her  troubles,  and  she  clasped  him  in  her 
arms. 


193 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


“  I  am  wicked  to  have  such  thoughts,” 
she  exclaimed,  lavishing  kisses  on  Benny, 
who  seemed  to  enjoy  them.  “  God  is  good. 
Didn’t  Morris  say  it  all  his  life,  and  when 
he  died  did  he  not  tell  me  not  to  lose  hope 
and  always  to  believe  that  there  are  good 
people  in  the  world?  God,  forgive  me,  if 
I  for  a  moment  forgot  Thee.” 

“  I  came  home  early  to-day,  mamma,” 
said  Fannie,  suddenly  opening  the  door. 
“  I  have  such  a  headache  that  Miss  Moore 
let  me  go.  She  told  me  that  I  ought  to 
wear  thick  flannels  and  not  go  out  in  the 
wet.” 

“  Yes,  yes,  my  child,”  said  the  mother, 
kissing  her  hot  forehead  and  smoothing 
her  hair.  “  Yes,  yes,  your  teacher  was 
right.  I  will  get  you  flannels  on  Monday. 
Come  now,  draw  your  chair  to  the  table, 
and  I  will  make  you  some  broth.” 

“  I  don’t  feel  sick,  but  so  tired,  mother, 
and  I  could  sleep  if  it  was  only  night-time.” 


194 


ONLY  A  CHILD 


Her  words  were  followed  by  a  violent 
paroxysm  of  coughing,  which  alarmed 
Mrs.  Goldstein. 

“  Lie  down  now,  Fannie,  do;  there’s  a 
darling.  Lie  down,  and  then  you’ll  be  nice 
and  warm.” 

“  Yes,  mamma,  but  you  will  wake  me 
in  time  for  the  children’s  synagogue  to¬ 
morrow,  won’t  you?  I  haven’t  missed  a 
Sabbath  yet,  and  it’s  nearly  two  years.  I 
am  in  the  choir,  mamma,  and  I  can  sing 
everything.  Only  when  I  want  to  sing, 
something  chokes  me,  so  that  my  voice 
breaks.  Do  girls’  voices  break  like 
boys’?” 

“  Why,  of  course  they  do,  Fannie.  Now 
let  me  undress  you,  even  if  you  are  a  big 
girl,  and  then  you  can  sleep.” 

“  If  I  only  had  a  rose,”  said  the  child, 
softly,  “  or  a  leaf  in  my  hand  or  under  my 
pillow,  mamma,  I  think  I  could  sleep,  and 
then  I  would  have  such  a  beautiful  dream 


195 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


again.  Let  baby  kiss  me,  mamma,  his  red 
lips  are  like  a  rosebud,  anyway.  I  guess  I’ll 
take  him  next  year  with  me  to  synagogue. 
Sarah  Levy  took  her  brother  last  week,  and 
he  is  only  four  years  old,  and  he  behaved  as 
nicely  as  anything.  Mamma,  let  me  have 
a  glass  of  water,  and  don’t  leave  the  room, 
and  when  you  light  the  Sabbath  lights, 
wake  me,  mamma,  and  then  we’ll  all  sing 
together.  Don’t  leave  me,  mamma,”  she 
added,  piteously.  “  Let  me  feel  your  hand. 
So,  so,”  she  said,  in  a  drowsy  tone,  and  was 
soon  fast  asleep,  while  Ben,  on  the  floor, 
tried  to  imprison  the  noon-day  sunbeams, 
which  shone  through  the  high,  narrow  win¬ 
dow.  Like  every  other  grand  feat  which 
that  ambitious  babe  attempted,  this,  too, 
was  a  lamentable  failure,  and  the  sunbeams 
refused  to  be  caught  by  his  small  fingers. 
He  looked  inquiringly  at  his  mamma,  but 
the  problem  could  not  be  solved  by  her. 
She  was  perhaps  thinking  of  the  sunbeam 


196 


ONLY  A  CHILD 


loaned  by  God  for  a  time,  which  perchance 
was  just  then  slipping  from  her  grasp ! 

“  Mother,  mother,  O  what  a  beautiful 
dream  I  have  had,”  and  Fannie  half  rose 
from  her  pillow,  her  cheeks  all  flushed  and 
her  eyes  brighter  than  ever. 

It  was  Sabbath  morn,  and  Mrs.  Gold¬ 
stein  sat  by  the  child’s  bedside,  clasping 
the  thin  hand. 

“  A  dream !  ”  she  replied,  smoothing 
Fannie’s  forehead  and  kissing  her  again 
and  again,  as  she  noticed  the  marked 
change  in  her  appearance.  “  A  dream  !  O 
Fannie,  I  am  sure  it  was  about — well,  I 
won’t  say  what,”  added  the  widow,  trying 
to  smile. 

“  No,  no,  mamma,  you  don’t  know  any¬ 
thing  about  it.  O,  such  a  dream,”  and 
Fannie  folded  her  hands  under  her  head, 
and  looked  up  yearningly  at  the  ceiling,  as 
if  she  discerned  again  the  vision  of  the 
night. 


197 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


“  Well,  Fannie,  you  will  tell  me,  surely. 
But  wait  now  until  you  have  had  your 
breakfast.  I  don’t  want  you  to  talk  too 
much;  you  know  it  is  not  good  for  you.” 

“  O  mamma,  I  don’t  feel  sick  any  more. 
I  am  ever  so  much  better.  I  guess  I’ll  get 
up  right  away,”  and  she  strove  to  rise.  But 
the  effort  was  beyond  her  strength,  and  she 
sank  back  again  exhausted. 

“  You  see,  darling,  I  told  you  to  be 
quiet  and  not  exert  yourself.  Come,  let 
me  soften  the  pillow,  and  brush  your  hair, 
and  wipe  your  hands,  and  you  will  be  more 
comfortable.  A  little  tea  will  do  you  good, 
Fannie,  and  then,  after  you  have  taken 
something,  you  can  tell  me  all  about  the 
wonderful  dream.” 

“  Now,  mamma,  truly  honest  it  was  a 
really  nice  dream,  and  you  must  not  make 
fun  of  it,  either.”  And  the  child  quickly 
swallowed  the  tea,  but  refused  the  roll 
which  her  mother  brought  her. 


198 


ONLY  A  CHILD 


Meanwhile  Ben,  whose  slumbers  had 
been  disturbed  by  the  conversation,  had 
managed  to  slide  down  from  his  nest  in  a 
perfectly  placid  way,  and  crawling  on  all 
fours  to  his  sister’s  bed,  looked  at  her 
with  an  unmistakable  air.  Mrs.  Goldstein 
quickly  lifted  the  babe,  and  placed  him  in 
Fannie’s  arms,  from  which  shelter  he 
blinked  calmly  at  his  audience,  and  seizing 
the  uneaten  roll,  clasped  it  with  both  fists, 
and  then  listened  with  apparent  eagerness 
to  what  was  coming :  he  knew  that  he  would 
not  be  scolded. 

“  Yes,  Ben,  you  shall  hear  all  about  it,” 
said  Fannie.  “  O  mamma,  it  was  such  a 
beautiful  synagogue  far  away,  somewhere 
in  the  country,  I  guess.  And  there  were 
roses  growing  outside  and  climbing  into 
the  windows.” 

“  Roses,  darling?  ” 

“  Yes,  mamma,  June  roses.  And  I  sat 
in  the  choir  with  Sarah  Levy,  and  Sophie 


199 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


Schlamowitz,  and  Georgie  Abrahams,  and 
the  others,  and  we  could  see  the  lovely 
green  grass  outside  the  window.  Now, 
mamma,  when  we  look  for  a  moment  out 
of  the  window,  there  is  nothing  to  see  but 
a  stable  and  a  woman  hanging  out  the  wash, 
and  this  makes  the  boys  laugh  sometimes. 
But  in  the  dream,  mamma,  the  synagogue 
was  all  white  inside,  with  small  chandeliers 
hanging  from  the  ceiling.  And  the  Ark 
was  real  marble,  and  there  was  only  one 
Sefer  in  it,  the  same  little  Sefer  for  which 
we  always  paid  three  dollars  a  year.  But 
it  was  dressed  beautifully,  and  it  had  lovely 
bells,  too.  And  the  window  behind  the 
Ark  was  all  red,  and  when  it  was  opened, 
the  window  seemed  on  fire.  And — and — ” 
“  Have  you  not  talked  long  enough, 
Fannie?  You  can  tell  me  the  rest  this 
afternoon.”  There  was  an  anxious  look  on 
the  mother’s  face,  as  if  she  feared  the  child 
was  wandering  in  her  mind. 


200 


ONLY  A  CHILD 


“  What  an  idea,  mother!  I’ll  tell  you 
it  all  now.  The  seats  were  all  filled  with 
children,  the  boys  on  one  side  and  the  girls 
on  the  other,  and  behind  there  were  grown 
people.  And  they  all  sang  together,  and 
above  them  all  you  could  hear  the  choir. 
And  then,  after  Georgie  Abrahams  read 
the  Sefer  and  the  Haftorah — I  guess 
he  must  have  been  Bar-Mitzwah — ,  the 
teacher  talked  to  us,  and  told  us  a  story. 
He  said  that  once  upon  a  time  all  the  He¬ 
brew  letters  came  together,  and  God  gave 
them  each  a  certain  value.  The  Beth  was 
two,  the  Gimel  three,  the  Daleth  four,  and 
so  on.  Now  the  next  day  the  Alef  came  to 
God  crying,  and  God  said :  ‘  What  ails  thee, 
my  poor  little  child?  ’  And  then  the  Alef 
said :  ‘  Dear  God,  all  the  letters  are  worth 
so  much  more  than  I  am,  and  they  are 
proud  and  won’t  play  with  me,  because  I  am 
so  poor.’  And  then  the  Alef  cried  bitterly, 
until  God  said:  ‘  Do  not  weep;  with  thee 


201 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


I  have  begun  the  ten  commandments.’ 
(You  know,  mamma,  Alef  is  the  first 
letter  of  Anoki.)  And  when  the  Alef 
heard  the  words,  it  dried  its  tears,  and 
felt  glad,  although  it  was  poor.  So,  the 
teacher  said,  God  will  begin  with  us,  poor 
as  we  are,  something  grand  and  great.  He 
is  as  near  to  our  little  synagogue  as  to  the 
largest  temple,  and  our  prayers  are  heard 
by  Him  gladly,  when  they  come  right  from 
our  hearts.” 

“  Yes,  my  child,  this  is  God’s  truth,” 
interrupted  the  mother. 

“  And  then  he  told  us  that  the  true  syna¬ 
gogue  was  our  home,  no  matter  how  small ; 
that  we  should  try  to  be  gentle  and  patient 
and  loving  there;  that  God  didn’t  care  for 
the  number  of  our  prayers,  but  for  the  feel¬ 
ing  with  which  we  prayed — and  for  the 
acts  of  our  lives.  He  told  us  that  when 
an  artist  is  about  to  make  a  picture,  he 
closes  his  eyes  and  imagines  what  he  is 


202 


ONLY  A  CHILD 


going  to  paint.  So,  too,  he  said,  we  chil¬ 
dren  should  have  before  us  pictures  of  our 
future,  what  we  would  like  to  become  when 
we  grow  older.  And  he  said  the  clearer 
the  picture  now,  the  more  chance  that  it  will 
be  real  in  the  future:  for  it  will  be  some¬ 
thing  to  lead  us  on.  Every  child  has  its 
own  angel  close  beside  it  in  its  youth,  and 
sweet  are  the  songs  it  sings.  And  when  a 
child  dies,  mamma,  the  teacher  said  that  the 
angel  doesn’t  die,  but  remains  behind,  and 
is  ever  near  to  those  whom  the  child  loved 
in  its  life-time.  And,  and, — I  have  for¬ 
gotten  what  he  said  about  David’s  dream 
when  he  was  watching  his  father’s  sheep. 
O  dear,  how  stupid  to  forget  it!  I’ll  ask 
him  next  week,  mamma,  and  you’ll  come 
with  me  and  sing  with  us,  too.  O  mamma, 
my  throat  is  so  dry,”  and  Fannie  quickly 
swallowed  the  fresh  drink  her  mother  had 
prepared. 

“  Do  you  know,  mamma,  what  was  fun- 


203 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


niest  about  the  dream?  ”  she  said  after  a 
slight  pause.  “  When  I  listened  to  the 
story  and  smelt  the  flowers,  I  said  to  my¬ 
self:  What  if  it  is  only  a  dream?  And  I 
cried  just  then,  and  could  not  sleep  any 
more.” 


204 


THE  RABBI’S  ROMANCE 


For  aught  that  ever  I  could  read, 

Could  ever  hear  by  tale  or  history, 

The  course  of  true  love  never  did  run  smooth. 

— A  Midsummer  Night’s  Dream. 

“  The  idea  !  ” 

“  What  do  you  mean,  madam?  ” 

“  The  idea  of  a  rabbi  having  a  ro¬ 
mance.” 

“And  why  not,  madam?” 

“  Why,  how  could  a  rabbi  have  a  ro¬ 
mance?  He  is  a  man  who  dons  a  skull  cap 
day  and  night,  has  a  long,  white  beard, 
wears  phylacteries  even  in  a  ball  room,  and 
talks  nothing  but  Hebrew.” 

“  Indeed !  A  curious  idea  of  a  rabbi 
you  seem  to  possess.  And  are  all  rabbis 
clerical  Dryasdusts?  The  Talmud  has  a 
different  tale  to  tell:  ‘  Descend  a  step  in 
choosing  a  wife,  that  thou  mayest  bend  and 
14 


205 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


whisper  in  her  ear.’  ‘  When  the  wife  dies, 
the  heavens  are  darkened.’  ‘  God’s  altar 
weeps,  when  one  forsakes  the  wife  of  his 
youth.’  Evidently  the  rabbinical  sages, 
even  before  our  days  of  progress,  had  ro¬ 
mantic  ideas  of  their  own — for  which  they 
receive  too  little  credit.  They  were  gradu¬ 
ates  of  a  good  old  school  which  produced 
the  love-idyls  of  the  patriarchs,  the  ex¬ 
quisite  story  of  Ruth,  the  valiant  woman  of 
Proverbs,  and  the  text  of  the  Song  of 
Songs:  ‘  Set  me  as  a  seal  upon  thy  heart, 
as  a  seal  upon  thine  arm ;  for  love  is  strong 
as  death.’  ” 

I 

In  Hirschberg  again !  I  have  not  seen 
a  glimpse  of  its  tall  trees  for  ten  years, 
nor  caught  a  view  of  its  surrounding  hills — 
they  call  them  mountains — for  the  same 
lapse  of  time.  But  it  has  all  come  back  to 
me  like  a  flash — the  merry,  joyous  life  of 


206 


THE  RABBI’S  ROMANCE 


old ;  its  unpleasant  privations  are  forgotten, 
its  happy  memories  alone  survive.  The 
lime-trees,  as  soldierly  as  old  Fritz’s  grena¬ 
diers,  are  familiar  once  more ;  the  red  roofs 
are  friendly;  the  very  dogs,  cats,  and 
market-women  smile  at  me.  And  as  I  walk 
through  the  narrow  streets,  peep  into  the 
shop  windows,  or,  gaining  the  heights,  see 
the  placid  town  at  my  feet — why,  I  feel  a 
Bahur,  a  real,  veritable  Bahur,  going  the 
rounds  of  Stunden )  and  taking  part  in  the 
Shiur.* 

Now,  Edward,  seated  comfortably  in 
your  London  club  house,  I  suppose  that 
you’ll  laugh  when  you  learn  that  I  was 
once  a  Talmud  student.  Most  assuredly 
I  was,  and  spent  six  years  at  a  famous  semi¬ 
nary  in  this  place.  In  fact,  I  was  almost 
elected  rabbi  of  the  Troppau  community — 
a  capital  depot  for  beer.  I  had  very  nearly 
resolved  to  apply  for  the  position,  and  be- 

*  Talmudic  lesson. 


207 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


ing  backed  by  the  director  and  staff  of  pro¬ 
fessors,  my  chances  were  exceedingly  favor¬ 
able.  But  one  day  I  had  a  quiet  “  think  ” 
all  by  myself:  “  Ignatz,  my  boy,  if  you 
become  a  rabbi  in  Troppau,  Poodlewitz,  or 
Delicatessenberg,  your  position  is  likely  to 
be  secure  for  life.  You  will  grow  fat  and 
rosy,  provided  your  wife  cooks  Leberwurst 
acceptably.  As  years  roll  by — a  great  deal 
faster  than  even  a  German  lightning  ex¬ 
press — you  will  be  living  in  Troppau  all 
the  time,  you  will  think  Troppau  and  drink 
Troppau  and  become  at  last  a  Troppauer, 
not  a  citizen  of  the  world.  No,  Ignatz, 
this  will  never  do  for  you.  Such  a  prospect 
is  not  cheering  to  a  man  of  your  physique 
and  temperament.”  While  I  was  thus  de¬ 
liberating,  there  came  the  postman’s  ring 
and  the  loud  barking  of  my  landlady’s  dog, 
soured,  perhaps,  because  the  postman  per¬ 
sistently  failed  to  bring  a  letter  for  him. 
It  was  a  brief  note  from  my  dearly  beloved 


208 


THE  RABBI’S  ROMANCE 


aunt  in  Liegnitz,  with  whom  I  had  lived 
from  childhood — my  parents  both  died  in 
my  early  years — telling  me  that  my  re¬ 
spected  uncle  was  not  expected  to  live. 
To  cut  a  long  story  short,  I  left  the  semi¬ 
nary,  took  charge  of  his  thriving  business, 
went  on  the  road,  pushed  trade,  opened 
branches  in  Paris  and  London.  And  now, 
as  a  wealthy  merchant,  I  am  revisiting  the 
scenes  of  my  student  days.  Ignatz,  thou 
hast  well  decided. 

I  promised,  I  fancy,  to  send  you  a  letter 
now  and  then.  I  am  not  much  of  a  hand  at 
writing,  save  when  the  old  spirit  comes  over 
me.  I  am  sure  I  would  not  have  spent 
more  than  an  hour  in  Hirschberg,  despite 
its  pleasant  associations,  if  I  had  not  found 
out  that  an  old  friend  of  mine  was  rabbi 
here.  He  was  a  rare  old  chap  in  those 
days  when  we  studied  together,  and  helped 
me  amazingly.  He  was  seminary  poet  and 
preacher,  and  the  German  expressions 


209 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


rolled  like  velvet  from  his  lips.  He  was 
such  a  clever  man,  too,  tall  and  vigorous, 
who  could  outwalk  and  outrun  the  whole 
seminary.  When  he  hurried  along  with  the 
Talmud  folio  in  hand,  you  could  note  his 
pride  in  the  pose  of  his  head  and  cut  of  his 
lip.  How  ambitious  he  was  in  those  days ! 
What  plans  and  aspirations  possessed  him ! 
He  was  going  to  do  this,  and  going  to  do 
that.  Life  was  fairer  for  him  than  for  the 
rest  of  us.  His  betrothed  came  to  Hirsch- 
berg  the  very  week  I  left,  and  I  recollected 
what  a  pretty  face  she  had — too  pretty  for 
a  rabbi’s  wife.  Ah,  Klein,  old  fellow,  I  am 
half  ashamed  to  see  you  again,  with  your 
ideas  before  which  all  of  ours  faded  into 
nothingness.  So  good-hearted  and  unself¬ 
ish,  too.  So  gentle  and  sympathetic,  with 
a  poet’s  sensitiveness,  responsive  to  every 
influence.  He  had  a  tremendous  will — 
had  he  been  anybody  else,  I  would  have 
called  his  a  powdery  temper,  and  didn’t  it 

blaze  sometimes?  But  the  gust  was  soon 

210 


THE  RABBI’S  ROMANCE 


over,  and  he  was  gentle  then  and  as  passive 
as  a  child.  How  his  sermons  rang  out  in 
the  old  seminary  synagogue !  What  dread¬ 
ful  stuff  all  the  rest  of  us  preached,  but 
how  superb  were  his  addresses!  He  im¬ 
agined  he  was  speaking  to  a  million  people, 
with  a  million  wrongs  to  be  righted.  And 
how  characteristic  were  his  ideas  of  Juda¬ 
ism  !  It  was  a  religion  of  discipline,  renun¬ 
ciation,  and  self-sacrifice.  He  got  quite 
beyond  the  range  of  his  audience  when  he 
touched  upon  these  themes.  But  he  was 
terribly  in  earnest,  and  his  sparkling  eye 
and  clenched  fist  told  the  story.  Well,  I 
shall  muster  courage  to  see  him  this  eve¬ 
ning.  I  wonder  whether  he  will  recognize 
me,  or  I  recognize  him. 

II 

I  returned  from  visiting  Klein  a  few 
hours  ago.  Poor  fellow,  they  told  me  that 
he  was  very  ill  and  could  not  be  seen.  But 
when  I  gave  my  name  and  spoke  of  him  as 


211 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


an  old  class-mate,  the  physician  became 
more  communicative,  and  invited  me  to  call 
again.  I  begged  for  one  look  at  Klein,  but 
he  thought  it  best  to  wait  until  the  morning. 
He  regards  the  case  as  very  serious.  There 
is  no  special  disease,  except  a  general  pros¬ 
tration  of  the  vital  powers,  and  it  is  difficult 
for  him  to  rally  with  his  exhausted 
strength.  The  doctor  thinks  that  his  trouble 
is  more  mental  than  physical.  He  may 
have  a  spell  of  consciousness  during  the  day, 
but  the  physician  is  not  hopeful.  Judging 
from  the  house  he  lives  in — his  room  is  in 
the  second  story  rear — he  must  be  in  a 
wretched  plight.  I  wanted  to  have  him 
moved  to  more  comfortable  quarters,  but 
the  physician  said  that  it  was  too  late. 
Nothing  can  save  him,  I  fear.  Klein  on  his 
death-bed — the  life,  the  pride  of  the  sem¬ 
inary  ! 

On  my  way  back  to  the  hotel  I  fell  in 
with  some  acquaintances,  and  learnt  from 


212 


THE  RABBI’S  ROMANCE 

them  the  story  of  Klein’s  life.  It  is  not 
a  very  cheerful  recital,  and  I  shall  re¬ 
serve  the  most  of  it  for  another  time;  but 
the  chief  facts  are  these :  Klein’s  betrothed 
left  him  when  he  became  rabbi  of  Hirsch¬ 
berg.  She  had  high  notions,  it  would  seem, 
about  her  beauty.  She  had  conscientious 
objections,  forsooth,  to  becoming  a  rabbi’s 
wife.  If  he  would  go  to  Berlin  and  be¬ 
come  a  sportive  banker,  or  a  pretentious 
merchant,  she  would  condescend  to  marry 
him.  But  to  be  cooped  up  in  Hirschberg, 
was  not  to  her  ladylike  taste.  And  besides, 
she  had  imbibed  new  ideas;  she  looked  upon 
the  Bible  as  old-fashioned  and  behind  the 
age,  and  secretly  despised  the  quiet,  lowly 
ways  to  which  she  had  been  accustomed. 
There  was  a  pretty  lively  scene  when  they 
parted.  But  he  was  firm,  and  she  was  firm ; 
and,  kurz  und  gut f  he  came  to  Hirschberg, 
and  she  went  to  Weissnichtwo.  Thus  the 
romance  was  abruptly  ended. 


213 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


They  gave  me  brief  details  of  his  life 
here.  When  he  first  came  he  was  all  fire. 
After  a  few  years  he  grew  less  and  less  im¬ 
pulsive,  as  he  found  that  all  the  glow  and 
enthusiasm  in  the  world  would  not  make 
rocks  blossom  or  transform  the  average 
worshipper  into  a  Judah  ha-Levi  or  an 
Ezra  the  scribe.  He  concealed  his  sore 
disappointment  by  working  all  the  harder 
and  opening  new  fields  of  activity,  ignor¬ 
ing  the  necessary  chasm  between  the  ideal 
and  the  actual  Jew.  In  his  sermons  he  laid 
the  greatest  stress  on  psalmist  and  prophet; 
it  was  his  fancy  to  choose  neglected  texts — 
the  wild  flowers  or  forget-me-nots  of 
Scripture,  so  he  called  them — which  were 
not  peculiar  to  Israel,  but  were  scattered 
with  lavish  hand  throughout  the  Scriptures 
of  other  creeds.  These  he  would  impress 
with  especial  force  on  the  children,  that  they 
might  grow  less  clannish  and  prejudiced, 
and  might  appreciate  the  beauty  and 


214 


THE  RABBI’S  ROMANCE 


strength  of  other  religions  as  well  as  their 
own. 

He  was  the  first  to  apply  the  kinder¬ 
garten  idea  to  Jewish  instruction,  and  the 
little  ones  thus  imbibed  in  their  impression¬ 
able  years  the  most  distinctive  yet  tolerant 
Jewish  teachings,  and  were  early  trained 
to  observe  the  rites  and  traditions  of  their 
race.  It  was  a  lovely  sight — so  they  told 
me — to  watch  these  kindergarten  exercises, 
which  inculcated  many  a  helpful  lesson  in 
Bible  and  Jewish  history. 

All  this  and  more  they  told  me ;  but  why 
coldly  repeat  it?  I  am  sick  at  heart,  dear 
Edward.  I  looked  forward  to  such  a  hap¬ 
py  meeting,  and  now — 

III 

A  week  has  passed  since  I  wrote  you. 
We  buried  Klein  yesterday.  I  was  with 
him  to  the  last,  but  he  did  not  recognize! 
me,  although  more  than  once  I  seemed  to 


215 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


feel  his  hand  grasp  mine,  and  to  catch 
an  appealing  glance  from  his  sunken  eyes. 
What  a  funeral  it  was!  The  entire  town 
turned  out,  the  people  tramping  through 
snow  and  ice  to  the  cemetery,  a  distance  of 
over  three  miles.  Old  and  young  sobbed 
as  his  coffin  sank  into  the  earth,  and  the 
psalm  they  sang  in  the  frosty  air  was  often 
interrupted  by  their  weeping.  They  seemed 
to  realize  the  truth  of  Jean  Paul’s  saying 
as  to  unavailing  grief  after  death,  when  a 
little  sympathy,  a  little  tenderness,  a  little 
hearty  encouragement  in  one’s  life-time 
could  have  done  so  much  to  lighten  the 
human  burden.  Upon  his  face,  when  the 
sad  end  came,  there  was  a  tender  smile, 
as  if  in  that  moment  the  life-long  hunger 
of  his  heart  had  been  appeased.  Poor 
Klein !  His  idealism  had  suffered  rude 
shocks,  but  it  had  proved  triumphant  at  the 
last — he  was  both  victor  and  victim. 

A  roll  of  manuscript,  a  few  old  letters, 


216 


THE  RABBI’S  ROMANCE 


the  fragments  of  a  rose — these  I  dropped 
into  the  grave,  and  the  quick-falling  sod 
covered  them  and  him.  His  friends  were 
obliging  enough  to  appoint  me  his  literary 
executor,  and  thus  I  fulfilled  the  trust.  The 
memorials  were  too  sacred  to  be  preserved. 
Let  them  fade  away  with  the  genial  soul 
and  noble  heart  that  they  commemorated. 

The  manuscript,  written  in  a  bold,  clear 
hand,  was  entitled  “  A  Rabbi’s  Romance.” 
It  told  the  story  of  his  life,  less  of  her  to 
whom  he  had  been  betrothed  than  of  the 
ideal  of  Judaism  to  which  he  had  sought  to 
be  faithful.  And  the  letters  were  from  her, 
in  a  different  clime,  acknowledging  money 
which  he  had  sent  her  in  her  poverty  from 
his  own  scant  earnings.  And  the  fragments 
of  the  rose?  Of  what  history  did  they 
breathe?  What  was  their  utterance? 
Rose  fragments  have  a  subtle  language  of 
their  own.  Old  fellow,  have  they  ever 
been  eloquent  to  you?  Who  of  us  never 


217 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


treasured  a  rose?  I  am  cold,  frozen,  ob¬ 
durate,  passionless,  if  you  like;  but  I  re¬ 
member  the  time  when  such  a  rose — .  And 
the  sight  of  Klein’s  silent  keepsake  made  the 
poet’s  lines  surge  in  my  memory: 

The  heart  hath  its  own  memory,  like  the  mind, 

And  in  it  are  enshrined 
The  precious  keepsakes,  into  which  is  wrought 
The  giver’s  loving  thought. 

I  tell  you  what,  Edward;  Klein’s  fate 
has  confirmed  me  in  my  scepticism.  It  is 
the  biggest  fist,  the  largest  stomach,  the 
toughest  fiber  which  win  the  day.  The 
world  is  no  home  for  those  of  tender  mood 
and  gentle  mind.  Nerves  of  steel  and  a 
heart  perfectly  callous,  man,  are  the  things 
that  are  requisite.  Look  at  us  both !  Here 
am  I,  a  huge,  healthy  ox,  without  sentiment 
and  sensibility,  only  eager  to  drive  a  bar¬ 
gain  and  to  make  money,  without  aspira¬ 
tions  and  inspirations.  I  never  had  an 
ideal,  except  ideal  beefsteaks.  And  Klein, 

the  poet,  the  preacher,  the  ardent  enthusi- 

218 


THE  RABBI’S  ROMANCE 


ast,  the  uncomplaining  worker,  living  up  to 
his  faith  with  a  martyr’s  courage,  dies  in 
early  manhood  of  a  broken  heart.  Who 
wouldn’t  be  a  sceptic  now? 

A  sceptic!  No.  As  I  write,  a  voice 
seems  to  come  from  that  snow-clad  grave, 
an  influence  makes  itself  felt.  His  life, 
with  all  its  stinging  incompleteness,  is  a 
rebuke  to  my  harsher  mood  and  a  refutal 
of  my  unbelief.  The  religion  that  impelled 
him  must  be  divine  and  true.  He  was  the 
stronger,  and  the  strongest  survives. 

I  have  cut  short  my  trip.  All  Germany 
seems  a  graveyard.  I  shall  meet  you  in 
London  at  the  end  of  the  week.  Till  then, 
adieu!  Do  pardon  all  abruptness.  You 

kn°W  Wh^  IGNATZ. 


219 


JUST  FROM  JERUSALEM 


And  now,  Israel,  what  doth  the  Lord  thy  God 
require  of  thee . 


— Deuteronomy. 


The  mails  had  arrived  from  America, 
and  Isaiah,  seated  in  the  garden  of  his 
modest  home  in  Jerusalem,  indulged  in  a 
choice  Havana,  watching  the  wreaths  of 
lazy  smoke  as  they  rose  in  soft  clouds  and 
disappeared  slowly  above  his  head.  The 
latest  copy  of  The  Jewish  Eagle  was  in  his 
hands,  and  after  glancing  hastily  at  its 
varied  contents,  which  included  information 
financial,  hymeneal,  musical,  culinary,  eco¬ 
nomical,  sociological,  and  theological,  he 
turned  to  the  leading  editorial.  It  was 
entitled  u  Ritual  Reform,”  and  the  word 
“  we  ”  occurred  nineteen  times  in  one 
column. 

“  If  those  fellows  had  to  do  with  the 


220 


JUST  FROM  JERUSALEM 


making  of  the  Ten  Commandments,”  said 
Isaiah  with  a  slight  chuckle,  “  they  would 
give  us  a  revised  version  of  the  first  com¬ 
mandment  to  read:  ‘  We  are  the  Lord  thy 
God,  etc.  Thou  shalt  have  no  other  gods 
before  Us  and  he  could  not  repress  a 
laugh.  “  Ritual  reform  ?  ”  he  continued,  “  is 
that  what  they  want?  Of  course,  in  one 
way  they  are  not  to  be  blamed.  Obedience, 
not  sacrifice,  was  Samuel’s  slogan  several 
centuries  ago.  They  want  to  simplify  mat¬ 
ters,  to  have  more  prayer  and  less  jingle, 
more  harmony  and  less  vociferation.  But 
— but  it  is  really  a  pity  that  they  go  to  work 
like  a  flock  of  sheep.  They  forget  that 
reforming  the  worshippers  is  more  im¬ 
portant  than  reforming  the  worship.  A 
man  suffering  from  fatty  degeneration  of 
the  heart  would  not  worry  about  the  color 
of  his  kid  gloves,  would  he?  ” 

He  impetuously  lit  another  cigar,  and 
puffed  vigorously  for  a  few  moments,  as  he 
15 


221 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


walked  up  and  down  the  garden.  “  It  is  sick¬ 
ening — their  lack  of  spirituality,”  he  again 
spoke  to  himself,  “  their  amazing  ignorance 
and  self-satisfaction.  But  they  open  their 
hand  to  the  widow,  make  $20,000  at  a 
Purim  Ball  for  the  hospital,  give  $30,000 
to  the  United  Hebrew  Charities,  subscribe 
$400,000  to  a  Hebrew  Orphan  Asylum. 
They  feed  the  hungry,  nurse  the  sick,  teach 
the  deaf  and  dumb  to  hear  and  speak,  train 
the  young  emigrant  to  help  himself  and  be 
strong;  and  if  they  don’t  sacrifice  bleating 
sheep,  well,  they  might  be  a  great  deal 
worse,  and  that  is  some  comfort.  But  what 
is  this?  ”  he  asked  as  he  scanned  the  adver¬ 
tisements.  “  What  is  this?  ‘  Wanted  a 

* 

rabbi-preacher  for  the  Congregation  Men 
of  Uprightness.  Applicants  will  forward 
their  certificates  as  to  character  etc.  to  the 
secretary,  etc.,  etc!  Why,  I  have  a  good 
mind  to  apply  for  the  position.  A  change 
in  climate  would  do  me  no  harm.  I  should 


222 


JUST  FROM  JERUSALEM 


like  very  much  to  go  to  America  where  such 
a  blissful  harmony  prevails,  there  being  no 
Jebusites,  Perizzites,  or  Amorites  to  vex 
the  Jews,  only  an  occasional  hotel-keeper 
or  an  obstinate  missionary.  It  is  true,  I  have 
precious  little  theological  knowledge.  I 
never  went  to  a  seminary,  and  never  studied 
the  Talmud.  But  I  know  something,  and 
have  had  an  experience  dating  from  the 
time  of  Uzziah,  Ahaz,  Jotham,  and  Heze- 
kiah.” 

It  was  no  sooner  thought  than  done.  He 
cabled  to  the  secretary  of  the  congregation : 
“  I  apply  for  the  position.  Isaiah  the 
prophet.  Expect  me  before  the  next  New 
Moon.” 

The  cablegram  caused  quite  an  embar¬ 
rassment,  and  a  special  meeting  of  the 
trustees  was  immediately  held.  Many  of 
them,  including  the  president  who  dared 
not  confess  his  ignorance,  seemed  to  know 
nothing  at  all  about  the  man. 


223 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


“  Who  is  Isaiah?  ”  went  from  mouth  to 
mouth. 

“  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Secretary?  ”  the 
vice-president  asked  with  the  fond  hope 
that  authentic  information  would  be  given, 
for  secretaries  of  congregations  are  walk¬ 
ing  and  talking  encyclopaedias. 

“  I  only  know  of  one  Isaiah,”  responded 
the  scholarly  secretary,  “  and  he  was  sawed 
to  pieces  by  order  of  king  Manasseh.” 

“  Dreadful,  dreadful,”  muttered  the 
vice-president.  “  It  can’t  be  he.” 

“  It  can’t  be  he,”  the  trustee  repeated 
with  a  worried  air. 

“  It  can’t  be  he,”  echoed  the  president 
in  the  utmost  perplexity. 

However,  the  public  did  not  remain  in 
suspense  very  long,  for  just  before  the  New 
Moon  Isaiah  arrived.  He  had  no  letters 
of  introduction;  but  that  did  not  disturb 
him,  for  he  managed  to  meet  people  any¬ 
how.  With  some  he  became  quite  friendly, 


224 


JUST  FROM  JERUSALEM 


but  was  rather  reserved  on  the  whole.  His 
attitude  was  that  of  a  calm  observer.  He 
said  nothing  as  to  the  religious  atmosphere. 
He  saw,  heard,  reflected,  and  was  silent. 
But  when  he  visited  the  Homes  for  the 
Aged,  and  the  Hospitals,  and  the  Orphan 
Asylums,  and  the  Industrial  and  Technical 
Schools,  and  the  new  edifice  of  the  Y.  M. 
H.  A.,  and  the  Hebrew  schools,  and  when 
he  learned  of  the  widespread  private  and 
public  benevolence,  his  admiration  was  un¬ 
bounded. 

“  Why,  sir,”  said  he  to  his  best  friend, 
Pumpernickle,  “  I  am  inclined  to  think  that 
in  some  respects  your  city  is  ahead  of  Jeru¬ 
salem  at  its  prime.” 

Pumpernickle  lost  no  time  in  telling  this 
to  Moses,  and  Moses  did  not  hesitate  to 
repeat  it  to  Jacobs,  who  hastened  to  inform 
Levy,  who  faithfully  enlightened  his  wife. 
The  whole  community  thus  heard  in  a  few 
days  the  flattering  remarks  of  Isaiah,  which 


225 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


were  duly  reported  and  enlarged  upon  in 
the  press. 

The  day  set  for  the  trial  drew  near.  The 
entire  congregation  was  agitated.  To  the 
vast  majority  of  the  members  the  man  was 
absolutely  unknown ;  a  very  few  had  heard 
of  the  name.  The  children  knew  little  about 
him;  they  had  not  come  so  far  in  their 
Bible  history.  Day  and  night  they  harass¬ 
ed  their  parents  with  the  question:  “  Who 
is  Isaiah?  ”  It  was  told  them  by  those  to 
whom  the  name  Isaiah  was  known:  “  He 
was  a  prophet,  and  he  wrote  many  prophe¬ 
cies.”  But  no  parent  could  tell  the  story  of 
Isaiah’s  immortality,  no  one  knew  that  the 
aim  and  purpose  of  Isaiah’s  life  was  proph- 
etism,  none  could  conceive  that  a  few  sen¬ 
tences,  a  few  sermons,  spoken  more  than 
two  thousand  years  ago,  were  charged  with 
such  electric  earnestness  and  conviction 
that  for  ever  and  ever,  while  nations  last, 
they  were  to  form  for  men  an  eternal  text 

and  warning  and  hope. 

226 


JUST  FROM  JERUSALEM 


Isaiah  came  into  the  crowded  synagogue. 
The  organ  played  exquisitely  the  soul¬ 
stirring  march  from  The  Prophet.  The 
deep-chested  cantor  allowed  his  magnifi¬ 
cent  voice  full  scope  in  the  opening  selec¬ 
tions  from  the  prayer-book.  And  then 
Isaiah  advanced  to  the  pulpit.  There  was 
“  slow  music  ”  by  the  organ. 

“  Stop!  ”  shouted  the  prophet  in  a  voice 
of  thunder.  “  When  I  have  finished,  you 
can  play  your  slow  music.” 

These  words,  so  entirely  unexpected, 
caused  a  tittering  throughout  the  place  of 
worship.  The  secretary  was  indignant,  the 
trustees  raved  in  secret,  and  the  president 
in  his  helpless  wrath  burst  his  vest  button. 
But  the  tittering  ceased  when  the  prophet, 
looking  the  congregation  straight  in  the 
face,  began  impressively. 

“  Hear,  O  heaven,  and  give  ear,  O  earth, 
for  the  Lord  hath  spoken :  Children  I  have 
reared,  and  brought  up,  and  they  have  re¬ 
belled  against  Me.” 


227 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


As  he  spoke,  he  thought  of  the  time  when 
he  had  last  uttered  these  words.  It  was  in 
Jerusalem,  before  an  infuriated  populace 
and  priesthood,  who  called  him  a  heretic 
and  an  atheist,  because  he  declaimed  against 
the  degeneracy  of  his  race  and  the  mongrel 
Judaism  which  was  so  fashionable.  And 
then  the  old  days  returned.  He  fancied 
himself  again  in  Jerusalem,  with  the  old 
stiff-neckedness  to  lash,  the  abject  slavish¬ 
ness  to  revile,  the  gross  corruption  to  expose. 
And  he  spoke  out  fiercely  and  fearlessly. 

“  Your  sweet-voiced  singers,  your  oper¬ 
atic  marches  displease  me.  When  I  sum¬ 
mon  you  to  the  house  of  the  Eternal,  who 
hath  required  this  at  your  hands,  to  turn 
His  tabernacle  into  a  theatre?  When  you 
repeat,  with  swelling  voices,  your  hymns, 
I  shall  shut  my  ears  against  you ;  when  you 
extend  your  kid-gloved  hands,  I  shall  re¬ 
fuse  to  see.  Your  foreign  ballads,  your 
transcendental  prayers  my  soul  hateth. 

228 


j 


JUST  FROM  JERUSALEM 


Your  soaring  domes,  your  glaring  lights, 
your  gilt  pillars  are  vexation  to  me.  Wash 
yourselves,  make  yourselves  clean.  Obe¬ 
dience,  I  require,  not  sacrifice.  The  higher 
life,  the  purer  heart,  the  nobler  hand,  the 
finer  brain,  moral  strength  and  character — 
these  the  Eternal  requireth;  and  no  choral 
outburst,  no  exquisitely  set  prayer,  no  elab¬ 
orate  ritual  can  compensate  for  their  ab¬ 
sence. 

O  Israel,  my  people,  what  is  the  religion 
which  I  ask  of  you?  Is  it  to  change  your 
prayers  like  a  garment?  Is  it  to  array  the 
synagogue  in  splendor  and  let  the  light  of 
religion  die  out  in  your  homes?  Is  it  to 
assemble  for  an  hour  on  Sabbath  and  forget 
Me  the  entire  week?  Is  it  to  pay  a  large 
rent  for  a  pew,  which  you  occupy  once  a 
year  on  fast-day?  Nay,  this  is  the  reform 
which  I  require  of  you,  that  you  be  Jews 
in  your  homes,  Jews  in  your  lives,  Jews  in 
your  synagogues,  Jews  above  and  before 


229 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


everything  else,  spurning  all  deceits  and 
flatteries,  and  finding  comfort  and  inspira¬ 
tion  in  the  faith  and  traditions  which  have 
preserved  us  intact  for  thousands  of  years. 
These  were  good  enough  for  your  fathers; 
they  are  good  enough  for  ourselves.” 

But  I  am  not  going  to  tell  you  all  that 
Isaiah  said  on  that  memorable  Sabbath 
morning.  You  can  read  it  for  yourself  in 
our  Bible,  the  oldest  Jewish  daily  in  exist¬ 
ence  throughout  the  world.  It  still  pub¬ 
lishes  good  tidings  from  the  rising  of  the 
sun  unto  its  setting. 

The  election  was  to  be  held  the  following 
Sunday  week,  which  gave  ample  time  for 
calm  deliberation.  During  the  interval  the 
sermon  aroused  much  dispute,  while  the 
personality  of  the  preacher  evoked  no  less 
comment.  It  must  frankly  be  stated  that 
the  criticism  of  the  congregation  was  al¬ 
most  unanimously  unfavorable. 

“  The  idea,”  said  one  of  the  enlightened 


230 


JUST  FROM  JERUSALEM 


members,  “  the  idea  of  preaching  to  us  in 
that  sophomoric  style.  Does  he  take  us 
for  children?  Why,  I  don’t  believe  that  he 
has  the  doctor’s  degree.” 

“  I  am  positive  that  he  never  attended  a 
Jewish  seminary,”  said  a  second  critic. 

“  He  talks  like  a  school-boy,  sir,”  said  a 
third  emphatically,  “  like  a  school-boy.  He 
never  once  quoted  from  the  Talmud.” 

“  I  think,”  exclaimed  a  fourth  snapping 
voice,  “  that  he  is  perfectly  odious.  He 
didn’t  once  refer  to  the  women  of  Israel.” 

“  Yes,  and  he  was  vulgar,  too,”  cried 
another.  “Just  think  of  it!  He  told  us 
to  wash  ourselves !  ” 

“  The  impertinence  of  criticising  our 
choir,”  said  the  chairman  of  the  choir  com¬ 
mittee. 

“  And  of  telling  the  organ  to  stop  play¬ 
ing,”  the  organist’s  mother  observed 
raspingly. 

“  He  is  very  satirical.  I  hate  a  satirical 


231 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


speaker,”  observed  another.  “  That  is 
for  the  platform,  not  for  the  pulpit.” 

“  Sound  common-sense,  divine  fire,  a  man 
who  can  uplift  and  guide,  a  man  who  will 
give  new  power  and  direction  to  Judaism,” 
was  an  old  gentleman’s  comment,  but  he 
was  held  to  be  approaching  his  dotage,  and 
his  opinion  carried  little  weight. 

Why  dwell  upon  further  views  of  Isaiah 
and  his  sermon,  why  repeat  the  caustic 
opinions,  the  harsh  reproaches,  the  bitter 
taunts  ?  The  general  idea  seemed  to  be  that 
he  had  scandalized  the  community,  and  in¬ 
sulted  the  very  people  whom  he  desired  to 
teach,  while  his  doctrines  were  a  libel  on 
their  Judaism. 

All  this  criticism  naturally  affected  his 
popularity  and  eligibility,  and  at  the  meet¬ 
ing  he  received  just  five  votes  out  of  two 
hundred. 

The  congregation  was  hardly  ready  for 
a  prophet. 


232 


THE  CHILDREN’S  REVOLT 


Come,  ye  children,  hearken  unto  me; 

And  I  will  teach  you  the  fear  of  the  Lord. 

— Psalms. 

All  have  heard  of  the  heroic  lads  of  Bos¬ 
ton  in  the  early  days  of  the  American  Revo¬ 
lution,  who,  when  the  British  soldiers  inso¬ 
lently  interfered  with  their  winter  pastime, 
boldly  sent  a  deputation  to  General  Gage 
to  complain.  At  once  the  general  ordered 
his  men  to  cease  annoying  the  boys,  who 
loved  liberty  with  their  fathers’  devotion. 
He  might  truly  have  expressed  his  doubt  of 
ever  conquering  the  sires  when  the  sons 
were  so  full  of  courage. 

It  is  idle  to  imagine  what  might  have 
happened  had  General  Gage  refused  their 
request.  What  could  they  have  done?  A 
hundred  school-boys  were  so  powerless. 
They  could  not  have  headed  a  revolt.  At 


233 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


best  they  would  have  clenched  fists  with  a 
sentinel  or  two,  and  after  a  few  hours  in  the 
guard-house  would  have  emerged  calmer, 
less  defiant,  and  with  tear-stained  cheeks. 
But  they  could  not  have  gained  their  point. 
Then  fathers  would  have  had  to  enter  the 
conflict  in  their  behalf. 

It  is  a  real  children’s  revolt  that  is  now 
to  be  considered,  and  it  occurred  in  a  small 
community  far  distant  from  Boston,  but  at 
a  period  not  so  very  remote.  Perhaps  some 
are  living  to-day  who  took  part  in  the  dis¬ 
turbance  or  at  least  heard  of  it  from  the 
best  authority. 

It  was  such  a  quiet,  old-fashioned  town 
where  all  this  happened.  Any  excitement 
in  that  place  was,  indeed,  a  novelty.  Noth¬ 
ing  was  ever  known  to  disturb  its  calm,  and 
life  ran  as  placidly  as  the  river  which  skirted 
the  place.  Yet  now  the  people  were  at 
fever  heat.  Such  wildly  beating  hearts  had 
rarely  existed.  Such  madly  throbbing 


234 


THE  CHILDREN’S  REVOLT 


brains  had  never  been  known.  What  was 
the  trouble  ? 

A  great  deal  was  the  trouble,  if  the  facts 
of  the  case  are  to  be  depended  upon.  They 
could  stand  it  no  longer.  They  had  borne 
it  uncomplainingly  for  years.  They  wished 
to  be  peaceful,  but  their  patience  was  ex¬ 
hausted.  They  felt  that  it  was  impossible 
to  remain  silent.  As  loyal  Jews,  they  de¬ 
termined  to  have  recourse  to  sterner  meas¬ 
ures.  They  did  not  hoist  the  flag  of 
reform :  they  hoisted  the  banner  of  revolu¬ 
tion.  And,  indeed,  revolution  is  often 
much  better  at  a  crisis  than  reform.  It 
goes  to  the  root  of  things,  and  will  remedy 
matters  far  more  expeditiously.  War  to 
the  knife,  not  words  and  resolutions.  De¬ 
fiant  cannonade  of  shot  and  shell,  not  pleas¬ 
ant  interchange  of  views  and  complaints. 

Now  who  were  the  revolutionists?  Gray- 
bearded  men,  with  wrongs  to  redress? 
Lofty  patriots,  with  homes  to  defend  from 


235 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


the  tyrant?  No,  decidedly  not!  They 
were  rosy-cheeked  boys  and  girls,  children 
still  in  pinafores,  who,  at  one  blow,  at  one 
resolve,  became  men  and  women.  They 
were  gathered  together  in  the  school-room 
one  afternoon  when  the  teachers  were  away, 
and  then  and  there  they  determined  to  re¬ 
volt.  It  was  no  use  mincing  matters :  com¬ 
promise  was  ineffectual  and  undesirable  at 
that  juncture;  sharp,  decisive  steps  were 
necessary,  and  these  the  bright-eyed  chil¬ 
dren,  sanctified  by  the  dew  of  innocence, 
determined  to  take.  How  earnest  the  skies 
seemed  to  the  children  when  the  meeting 
was  over,  how  different  the  aspect  of  the 
trees  and  meadows!  The  very  cows  had  a 
more  subdued  look,  the  defiant  butterflies 
appeared  more  sedate.  And  the  children 
themselves  were  changed.  The  most  un¬ 
ruly  became,  for  the  time,  models  of  pro¬ 
priety,  and  the  lightest-hearted  little 
maidens  were  superlatively  sober.  What 


236 


THE  CHILDREN’S  REVOLT 


changed  in  an  instant  these  merry  boys  and 
girls?  The  following  pages  will  tell  the 
whole  story;  so  be  as  attentive  as  possible, 

readers,  old  and  young. 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

It  was  an  ordinary  Sabbath  morning,  and 
the  neat  little  synagogue  was  crowded. 
There  was  nothing  remarkable  in  the  at¬ 
mosphere.  It  was  neither  feast-day  nor 
fast-day.  Nor  was  it  any  memorial  day: 
it  was  the  anniversary  neither  of  triumph 
nor  of  sorrow.  The  curtain  before  the  Ark 
wore  its  accustomed  maroon  shade,  with 
small  lions  of  Judah  artistically  embroid¬ 
ered  in  gold,  looking  far  from  ferocious, 
though  resolute.  Why  then  was  the  syna¬ 
gogue  so  crowded  that  morning  ?  And  why 
were  there  present  so  many  children  of  all 
ages  from  four  to  thirteen?  There  must 
have  been  some  weighty  reason  below  the 
surface  to  cause  them  to  assemble  in  such 
numbers.  And  there  was — although  the 
16 


237 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


rabbi,  a  saint  in  his  way,  seemed  utterly 
unconscious  of  impending  trouble.  He  sat 
on  his  historic  seat,  an  heirloom  from 
an  earlier  century,  at  the  head  of  the 
synagogue.  A  middle-aged  man,  his  look 
was  rather  severe,  and  he  frowned  while 
praying,  as  if  something  was  disturbing  his 
serenity.  It  could  not  have  been  the  chil¬ 
dren’s  faces  beaming  before  him,  nor  the 
occasionally  tossing  curls  of  the  little 
maidens.  Of  course,  he  was  too  much  en¬ 
grossed  in  his  meditations  to  think  of  such 
trifles.  If  he  only  knew  that — 

Well,  he  had  just  ended  his  sermon.  It 
was  rather  a  lengthy  effort,  and  it  was  all 
about  the  prophets  Isaiah,  Jeremiah,  and 
Ezekiel.  He  explained  how  each  embodied 
one  great  characteristic  of  Israel.  He  dis¬ 
played  great  erudition,  and  aroused  the  ad¬ 
miration  of  the  learned  few.  As  for  the 
unlearned  many,  why,  they  were  perhaps  of 
the  same  opinion  as  the  very  good  man  in 


238 


THE  CHILDREN’S  REVOLT 


Hamburg,  years  and  years  ago,  who,  being 
asked  one  Sabbath  after  service  what  the 
rabbi’s  sermon  had  been  about,  replied  with 
just  scorn:  “What,  do  you  think  that  I 
have  the  hutzpah  to  understand  what  the 
rabbi  says?  ” 

The  sermon  was  over,  the  rabbi  was 
about  to  take  his  seat,  when  up  sprang  one 
of  the  boys,  an  eleven-year  old,  Jacob  by 
name,  who  went  straight  to  the  pulpit. 
Quick  as  a  flash  Sam  and  Ezra,  ten  and 
twelve,  respectively,  posted  themselves  one 
at  each  side.  At  the  same  time  little  Rose 
and  Sarah  ran  from  their  seats  in  the  gal¬ 
lery,  fairly  jumped  down  the  narrow  stairs, 
and  came,  flushed  and  breathless,  into  the 
main  synagogue.  At  the  door  stood  the 
old  Shammash ;  but  he,  though  horrified  at 
first,  did  not  dare  to  interpose;  for  Rose 
who  was  one  of  his  many  favorites  kissed 
him  as  she  rushed  by.  Then  he  opened  his 
astonished  eyes,  and  blew  his  nose  fu- 


239 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


riously.  Not  faltering  in  the  least,  Rose 
and  Sarah  went  to  where  Sam  and  Ezra 
stood.  Then,  without  giving  time  for  the 
thunder  storm  which  was  gathering  around 
them  to  burst,  the  little  preacher  began  his 
sermon.  Jacob  had  always  passed  for  a 
clever  lad,  and  he  was  not  going  to  lose  his 
reputation  on  this  occasion. 

“  Dear  rabbi,  good  friends,  loving  par¬ 
ents,  and  all  my  play-fellows.  Once  upon 
a  time  in  a  far  distant  country  a  rabbi  was 
engaged  in  explaining  the  Law,  and  he 
came  upon  the  text :  ‘  Assemble  the  men, 
women,  and  the  children.’  Why  were  the 
men  told  to  come  to  the  synagogue?  Just 
to  learn.  And  the  women?  To  hear.  And 
the  children?  Why,  my  friends,  were  the 
children  told  to  come?  To  give  a  reward 
to  those  who  bring  them,  says  the  Talmud. 
Very  well;  but  I  think  that  the  reward 
would  be  more,  if,  when  they  bring  us  to  the 
synagogue,  we  understand  what  we  are  here 


240 


THE  CHILDREN’S  REVOLT 

for  and  the  meaning  of  many  things  about 
which  we  are  so  ignorant.  I  think  it  would 
be  better  if  now  and  then  the  rabbi  would 
preach  to  us  and  consider  us  and  talk  to  us 
and  tell  us  what  we  ought  to  know  about 
our  holy  religion.  Of  course,  some  people 
might  say  we  go  to  school  to  learn  such 
things,  but  school  is  school,  and  synagogue 
is  synagogue.  We  are  not  always  happy 
in  school — ” 

Here  one  of  the  children  looked  at  his 
fat  hand — it  had  tasted  the  rod  yesterday, 
and  still  bore  a  suspicious  red  mark. 

“  We  come  to  synagogue  for  some- 
thing  which  we  do  not  get  at  school.  Am 
I  not  right,  children?  ” 

“  Yes,  yes !  ”  exclaimed  the  children  with 
much  enthusiasm,  while  four-year  old  Ruth, 
unabashed,  shouted  i  “  Yeth !  ”  as  loudly  as 
she  could,  when  all  the  rest  had  finished. 
And  the  little  preacher  could  with  diffi¬ 
culty  restrain  himself  from  laughing, 


241 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


which  would  have  been  a  serious  mistake 
on  his  part  just  at  that  moment. 

“  You  see,”  he  resumed  quickly,  “  we  are 
all  unanimous.  We  want  to  have  some¬ 
thing  to  interest  us  in  the  synagogue  and 
to  add  to  our  happiness.  Give  us  a  chil¬ 
dren’s  service  with  a  children’s  sermon 
which  we  all  may  understand  and  profit  by. 
Let  us  know  in  simple  language  about  the 
children  of  our  Bible,  the  childhood  of  the 
sages,  the  children’s  sayings  and  doings  in 
Jewish  history.  Surely,  that  is  a  very  small 
request  to  make;  it  will  not  cause  much 
trouble;  but  if  you  do  not  give  us  what  we 
need,  if  you  do  not  grant  our  wish,  why  we 
shall—” 

The  word  was  fortunately  drowned  in 
the  loud  applause  which  the  children  gave 
him.  The  threat,  for  it  must  have  been  a 
threat,  was  not  heard  in  the  tumult  which 
followed.  Above  in  the  gallery  the  mothers 
were  weeping  copiously.  Jewish  mothers 


242 


THE  CHILDREN’S  REVOLT 


of  the  older  generation  liked  to  cry:  their 
emotions  were  easily  aroused.  At  a  funeral 
or  a  wedding  the  tears  were  shed  without 
restraint.  On  the  main  floor,  however,  the 
fathers  seemed  perplexed.  They  could  not 
understand  the  situation.  It  was  the  rabbi 
who  saved  the  day,  for  having  kissed  Ja¬ 
cob  and  bidden  the  children  resume  their 
seats,  he  mounted  the  pulpit  once  more,  and 
said : 

“  Years  and  years  ago  there  was  a  great 
drought  in  the  land — no  rain  had  fallen  for 
many  weeks.  How  dry  were  the  fields,  and 
how  empty  the  wells !  The  trees  and 
flowers  were  dying  for  want  of  water.  Dis¬ 
tress  was  in  every  home,  and  all  knew  what 
would  be  their  fate  if  no  rain  came.  Now 
in  times  of  trouble  Israel  always  prays,  and 
so  all  the  great  men  came  together  and 
prayed.  The  learned  rabbis,  the  mighty 
rulers,  the  holy  prophets,  all  prayed,  but  no 
cloud  appeared  in  the  heavens,  not  a  rain¬ 
drop  fell. 


243 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


Then  one  day  came  a  plain,  simple  man; 
no  one  knew  him  or  where  he  hailed  from. 
And  he  offered  a  prayer.  No  sooner  was 
his  feeble  voice  heard  in  tones  of  earnest 
entreaty  than  the  clouds  began  to  gather, 
and  as  he  continued  to  pray,  the  rain  fell 
in  refreshing  showers.  The  people  in  their 
gratitude  asked  him  who  he  was  and  what 
his  occupation  was,  and  he  replied :  ‘  I  am 
only  a  teacher  of  little  children.’  But  the 
child’s  teacher  was  answered,  when  rabbis, 
rulers,  and  prophets  pleaded  in  vain. 

So  to-day,  dear  friends,  if  the  pulpit  be¬ 
comes  the  children’s  teacher,  its  voice  may 
be  more  quickly  heard,  its  influence  in¬ 
creased,  and  knowledge  be  spread  in  ample 
showers  to  refresh  and  restore  our  parched 
souls.  The  experiment  may  well  be  made. 
If  only  all  revolts  could  be  as  innocent  as 
that  which  our  dear  children  have  so  clev¬ 
erly  begun  and  ended !  ”  And  here  the 
rabbi  closed  his  remarks. 


244 


THE  CHILDREN’S  REVOLT 


Well,  Jacob  had  preached  his  little  ser¬ 
mon,  and  it  had  a  good  effect;  for  children’s 
sermons  were  regularly  instituted  in  that 
synagogue,  and  they  became  so  popular  that 
the  rod  grew  mouldy  from  disuse.  The 
boys  and  girls  found  real  pleasure  in  coming 
to  service,  and  the  rabbi,  who  was  the  friend 
and  comforter  of  all,  never  had  more  atten¬ 
tive  and  enthusiastic  audiences  than  when 
he  spoke  to  the  children.  He  took  pride 
in  his  rosy-cheeked  congregation,  and  how 
they  worshipped  him !  And  they  grew  so 
familiar  with  the  old  story  of  Israel,  the 
customs  and  symbols  of  synagogue  and 
home,  that  there  was  never  a  drought  in 
that  community,  but  such  knowledge  of  the 
Law  and  pride  in  its  precepts,  such  love  of 
religion  and  zeal  in  its  practice,  that  it  be¬ 
came  a  centre  of  a  living  Judaism  which 
maintained  its  prestige  for  many  a  gen¬ 
eration. 


245 


AT  GRANDMOTHER’S  SCHOOL 


She  openeth  her  mouth  with  wisdom; 

And  the  law  of  kindness  is  on  her  tongue. 

— Proverbs . 

A  few  years  ago  an  old  lady  arrived  at 
our  shores,  a  dear  old  lady  with  bright 
smiles  and  rosy  cheeks,  eager  to  meet  her 
children  and  grandchildren  and  see  the 
wondrous  panorama  of  American  life, 
about  which  she  had  heard  with  ever- 
increasing  curiosity.  She  came  from  a 
thriving  little  Bohemian  town,  and  belonged 
to  one  of  its  worthiest  Jewish  families, 
which  had  lived  for  over  a  century  in  the 
same  place,  whose  simple  synagogue  and 
unadorned  cemetery  were  of  a  still  more 
venerable  age.  The  town  which  hardly 
varied  from  decade  to  decade  had  pro¬ 
duced  its  share  of  rabbis  and  scholars,  some 
of  whom  won  European  fame  as  princes  of 
learning. 


246 


AT  GRANDMOTHER’S  SCHOOL 


It  was  a  very  conservative  community, 
and  is  so  still,  despite  the  wide  gaps  in  the 
population  caused  by  that  insatiable  Wan¬ 
derlust  which  drives  the  young  people  to 
America.  Long  before  Friday’s  sunset,  a 
holiday  calm  hovers  over  the  Jewish  home, 
the  children  gather  around  the  mother  who, 
her  work  over  for  the  week,  lights  the  Sab¬ 
bath  lamp,  while  father  and  the  boys  go  to¬ 
gether  to  synagogue  without  any  urging. 
And  the  mystic  angels  of  the  Sabbath  ac¬ 
company  the  worshippers  after  prayers,  and 
linger  in  the  shadows  outside  the  dwelling. 
Within  the  house  other  angels  abide :  Faith, 
Love,  Contentment,  Peace.  Is  it  not  rather 
unfashionable  nowadays  to  talk  of  angels? 
But  out  there  in  that  Bohemian  town  they 
still  believe  in  angels  to  a  certain  degree, 
and  at  night  time  the  little  children  are 
taught  to  say  before  they  go  to  sleep :  “  May 
Michael  be  at  my  right  hand,  Gabriel  at  my 
left,  before  me  Uriel,  behind  me  Raphael, 


247 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


and  above  my  head  the  divine  Presence !  ” 
Ah,  shadowy  cradle-songs  of  the  past,  which 
familiarized  the  people  from  early  child¬ 
hood  with  the  power  and  nearness  of  the 
Almighty  who  had  not  yet  become  a  phil¬ 
osophical  abstraction  or  a  set  phrase ! 

In  such  a  quiet  atmosphere  the  old  lady 
flourished  and  grew  stout.  Her  increasing 
weight  gave  her  no  uneasiness ;  it  only  made 
her  laughter  the  more  irresistible  as  she 
went  her  daily  rounds.  But  she  had  one 
anxious  thought,  which  grew  more  perplex¬ 
ing  with  years.  Would  she  ever  see  her 
dear  ones  again?  Was  it  well  with  them 
and  their  households?  Then  came  one 
morning  a  wild  desire  to  cross  sea  and  sky 
and  to  kiss  them  once  again  before  her  eyes 
closed  forever. 

It  was  a  red-letter  day  when  she  set  out 
for  Hamburg.  The  entire  town,  with  a 
number  of  its  surrounding  villages,  turned 
out  in  her  honor,  and  business  was  practi- 


248 


AT  GRANDMOTHER’S  SCHOOL 

cally  suspended  for  several  hours.  “  Travel 
thou  with  God !  ”  was  the  fervent  cry  that 
followed  her  on  her  journey  from  the 
meadows  of  Bohemia  to  the  smoke  of  Chi¬ 
cago.  “  Travel  thou  with  God!  ”  Could 
any  phrase  be  more  expressive  ? 

Did  I  say  she  was  an  old  lady?  Well,  she 
was  not  so  very  old,  at  least  not  too  old  to 
read  her  Hebrew  prayers  and  to  remember 
the  Sidrah  of  the  week.  Not  too  old  to 
bless  God  before  and  after  meals,  or  when 
she  saw  the  flash  of  lightning  and  heard  the 
thunder.  Not  too  old  for  God  to  bless  her 
in  return  by  giving  her  a  cheerful  tempera¬ 
ment,  a  loving  disposition,  a  trustful  heart 
which  was  a  rock  of  defence  to  all  in  sorrow 
and  in  trial.  Not  too  old  to  awaken  aiad 
retain  the  love  of  little  children,  who  would 
cling  to  her  whenever  she  walked  with  rapid, 
bustling  steps  along  the  spotless  side¬ 
walk.  Not  too  old  to  be  the  first  at  the 
home  of  mourners  and  help  to  array  the 


> 


249 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


rich  and  poor  in  the  last  white  robe.  Not 
too  old  to  be  the  merriest  under  the 
huppah,  as  she  whispered  words  that  made 
the  bride’s  eyes  shine  with  tender  love  light. 

She  stayed  some  months  in  Chicago  with 
her  relatives,  who  idolized  her  with  all  her 
peculiarities.  The  story  of  her  new  life  and 
environment,  with  its  lights  and  shadows,  is 
naturally  a  private  record,  known  only  to  a 
very  limited  few.  During  her  Chicago  visit, 
however,  she  wrote  many  a  long  letter  to  an 
old  friend  abroad,  Fraulein  Manschettel, 
who  kept  a  small  Hebrew  book-store,  called 
“  At  the  Sign  of  the  Tallis,”  and  also  pro¬ 
vided  a  lunch  counter,  beloved  by  old  and 
young  for  its  delicious  rolls  and  cheese. 

This  correspondence  was  zealously 
guarded  as  the  Fraulein’s  most  precious 
possession.  By  mere  chance,  while  strolling 
one  day  past  the  shop  during  a  brief  visit  to 
the  town,  I  was  shown  a  couple  of  these 
letters.  Their  style  was  so  fascinating, 
their  character  so  exceptional,  that  I  begged 

250 


AT  GRANDMOTHER’S  SCHOOL 


permission  to  translate  them.  After  an 
apparently  hard  struggle,  consent  was 
given,  and  I  set  to  work.  I  had  no  idea, 
however,  that  the  process  of  translation  was 
to  be  so  difficult.  The  old  lady’s  thoughts 
ran  in  a  zigzag  fashion,  and  to  coin  a 
simple,  coherent  phrase  for  the  arabesques 
of  her  fancy  was  a  task  of  some  magnitude. 
Hebrew  terms  and  German- Jewish  sayings 
abounded,  and  they  lost  much  of  their 
“  point  ”  in  our  cold  English.  It  was  like 
transferring  dew-drops  and  tear-drops, 
smiles  and  prayers,  the  lightest  gossamer, 
to  find  that  the  sentiment  and  the  beauty 
were  likely  to  vanish  in  the  change. 

Despite  all  misgivings,  I  completed  the 
task,  although  I  resolved  to  omit,  rather 
than  mangle,  many  of  the  offending  words. 
I  tried  to  modernize  the  whole  and  give  the 
picture  without  the  dust  or  cobweb.  But 
the  result  hardly  satisfies  me.  It  seems 
almost  a  profanation. 

sfj  >js  ^  Jfi  # 


251 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


My  first  Sabbath  in  America. — Hannah 
did  not  light  the  Sabbath  candles :  she  said 
her  husband  objected  to  the  custom  which 
was  out  of  date.  “  Mother  dear!  ”  she 
remarked,  “  in  your  room  are  two  electric 
lights,  the  girl  will  turn  them  on  for  you, 
and  then  you  will  have  splendid  Sabbath 
lights.  Dost  thou  understand?  ” 

I  did  not  argue  with  her — I  am  a  stranger 
and  a  sojourner  in  the  land — but  made  re¬ 
ply :  “  I  do  not  need  your  electric  lights,  my 
daughter.  I  have  brought  my  own  Sabbath 
candlesticks,  Hannah,”  and  went  up  the 
stairs  to  my  room.  There,  in  the  fast¬ 
fading  twilight,  I  took  the  little  candles 
from  my  trunk,  and  lit  them.  I  looked  out 
of  the  window,  and  saw  in  fancy  the  host  of 
Israel,  as  Balaam  had  seen  the  shining  tents, 
and  exclaimed :  “  There  is  no  enchantment 
with  Jacob.”  It  is  only  the  magic  of  the 
Sabbath  that  has  kept  us  alive  amid  the 
trials  and  sorrows  of  thousands  of  years. 


252 


AT  GRANDMOTHER’S  SCHOOL 


Tap,  tap,  on  the  door  of  my  room.  Who 
is  knocking,  I  wonder.  Come  in !  Why,  it 
is  the  child  of  my  heart,  Ruth.  She  is  my 
youngest  granddaughter,  just  eight  years 
old,  with  large  eyes,  and  wonderfully  sweet 
and  sunny.  Dear  little  Ruth,  thou  lovable 
child,  how  thou  resemblest  thy  grandfather ! 
And  thy  tender  voice  comes  whispering  to 
me  of  years,  long  years,  which  are  shadowed 
in  care  and  yet  none  the  less  joy-illumined. 
“What  dost  thou  wish,  sunny  angel?”  I 
ask. 

“  Grandma,  tell  me,  why  dost  thou 
light  two  candles  and  all  by  thyself?  Tell 
me,  please.” 

“Kiss  me,  precious!  I  shall  tell  thee. 
Only  first  sit  upon  my  old  knee  and  hold  my 
wrinkled  hand,  and  lay  thy  soft  cheek 
against  my  wrinkled  one.  And  now,  Ruth, 
look  at  me  with  thy  big,  sweet  eyes,  and 
listen,  listen. 

In  olden  days — understand,  my  little 


J7 


253 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


dove — when  our  fathers  wandered  in  the 
wilderness — and  that  wandering  shall  never 
cease  until  the  Messiah  comes  to  teach  the 
nations  to  make  the  wilderness  a  garden — 
they  used  to  gather  their  food  daily,  but  on 
the  day  before  Sabbath  they  gathered  a 
double  portion,  and  then  rested  on  Sabbath. 
The  double  light  is  the  double  joy  of  life 
which  the  faithful  receive  on  that  day.  It 
is  with  double  welcome  we  greet  our  queen 
Sabbath.  And  it  prefigures  or  gives  us  an 
advance  picture  of  the  two  lives,  this  world 
and  the  world  to  come.” 

“  But,  grandma,”  she  pouted,  as  she 
clung  closer,  “  I  never  learned  that  in  our 
Sunday  School.” 

“  Is  that  so,  sweetest?  But  it  is  not 
strange,  not  so  very  strange.  Perhaps  thou 
didst  never  hear  the  story  of  Moses  and  the 
lamb?” 

“  Do  tell  me,  please.  I  never  heard  that 
either.” 


254 


AT  GRANDMOTHER’S  SCHOOL 


“  Once  upon  a  time,  dear  Ruth,  when 
Moses,  our  teacher,  was  shepherd  for  the 
priest  of  Midian,  he  missed  a  tiny  lambkin, 
while  gathering  the  sheep  to  return  to  the 
fold.  So  back  he  went  to  seek  the  lost  one. 
The  night  was  falling;  the  hill-sides  grew 
dark,  but  guided  by  its  faint  cries,  he  soon 
discovered  the  lamb  that  had  strayed  from 
the  flock.  ‘  What  aileth  thee,  little  one  ?  * 
asked  the  good  man.  ‘  Thy  poor  foot  is 
wounded  and  bleeding,  cut  by  some  sharp 
stone.  Come,  let  me  carry  thee.’  So  he 
bore  the  lamb  in  his  bosom  safe  to  the  fold. 
And  when  God  saw  this,  he  said:  ‘  Moses 
shall  be  shepherd  of  my  flock;  he  shall  lead 
Israel  from  Egypt  to  freedom,  because  his 
heart  is  tender  and  strong.’  O  Ruth,  Ruth, 
how  I  wept  when  my  father  told  me  the 
old  story,  how  I  wept  and  refused  to  be 
comforted!  ” 

“  Grandma  dear,”  she  said,  edging  still 
closer,  “  how  I  wish  thou  couldst  be  our 


255 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


teacher  in  Sunday  School !  How  I  wish 
it!  ” 

“  Nay,  nay,  my  lambkin.  I  am  too  old 
and  out  of  date.  Thou  needest  the  dazzling 
electric  light,  not  the  poor  Sabbath  candle.” 

“  But,  grandma  dear,  I  love  thee,  and 
I  do  not  love  my  Sunday  School  teacher.  I 
feel  so  safe  in  thy  arms.  Wilt  thou  not 
teach  me  in  the  quiet  hour  just  between, 
just  between — ?  ” 

“  Between  Minha  and  Maariv,”  I  added 
softly,  and  as  she  failed  to  understand  the 
words,  for  she  looked  wonderingly  at  me,  I 
told  her  that  they  were  two  sentinels  who 
kept  silent  watch  in  the  afternoon  and  early 
evening  each  blessed  day,  when  Israel  sum¬ 
moned  them.  Then,  as  I  noticed  that  she 
seemed  a  bit  incredulous,  I  said  to  her: 
“  Ruth,  if  thou  wilt  bring  me  my  prayer- 
book,  I  will  give  thee  a  Hebrew  lesson. 
Will  that  please  thee?  ” 

She  sprang  from  my  lap,  secured  the 


256 


AT  GRANDMOTHER’S  SCHOOL 


faded  volume,  and  handed  it  to  me.  Then 
opening  it  at  Psalm  145,  I  pointed  to  the 
first  letters  of  each  line,  which  were  printed 
in  somewhat  larger  type. 

“  Look,  Ruth.  This  is  king  David’s 
song  of  praise,  read  in  church  and  syna¬ 
gogue  all  the  world  over.  A  glorious  song 
of  praise,  each  line  a  golden  text,  each 
thought  undying.  ‘  The  Lord  is  nigh  unto 
all  them  that  call  upon  Him,  to  all  that  call 
upon  Him  in  truth  ’ — what  a  magnificent 
tribute  to  our  old-fashioned  religion ! 
‘  Thou  openest  Thy  hand,  and  satisfiest 
every  living  thing  with  favour  ’ — could 
any  modern  thought  surpass  that  old  He¬ 
brew  utterance?  Notice  that  one  Hebrew 
letter  is  missing,  and  that  is  the  line  begin¬ 
ning  with  the  letter  Nun,  which  means 
‘  fish.’  Our  rabbis  of  old  have  said  that  in 
the  next  world  the  pious  ones  will  enjoy 
their  meal  of  fish.  Perhaps  their  fanciful 
explanation  is  only  to  show  us  that  what  is 


257 


UNDER  THE  SABBATH  LAMP 


missing  here  will  be  supplied  there.  That, 
too,  thou  dost  not  understand,  my  child. 
Many  older  people  do  not.  But  now  the 
lesson.  Give  heed. 

There  is  the  first  letter,  Aleph,  and  it 
means  ‘  ox,’  a  rather  headstrong  animal,  as 
is  the  Israelite,  whom  our  Torah  calls 
‘  stiff-necked.’  But  then  it  also  means  ‘  one,’ 
the  one  God,  Creator  of  heaven  and  earth, 
whom  Israel  was  first  to  reveal  as  such  to 
mankind.  That  was  a  great  advance.  Now 
comes  Beth,  which  signifies  ‘  house  ’ ;  but  it 
also  means  ‘  two,’  the  two  houses,  this  life 
and  the  life  to  come.  Next  appears  the 
third  letter,  Gimel.  See,  it  has  a  kind  of 
hump,  and  it  means  ‘camel.’  Alas,  the  Is¬ 
raelite  is  also  a  kind  of  camel,  a  patient, 
long-suffering  creature,  and  his  hump  is 
called  Golus ,  or  the  burden  of  captivity. 
His  history  is  the  history  of  constant  serf¬ 
dom  :  he  has  always  had  his  hump  to  carry. 
And  the  fourth  letter  is  Daleth,  which  is  ‘  a 


258 


AT  GRANDMOTHER’S  SCHOOL 


door.’  God  will  at  last  show  His  people  a 
door  to  freedom.  And  then,  why,  Ruth, 
my  dear,  it  is  growing  late,  and  thy  fond 
mother  will  be  worried  at  thy  absence.  So 
good-night,  good-night.  No  more  school 
just  now.  Good-night.  Do  not  forget  thy 
old  grandmother’s  lesson.” 

And  she  kissed  me,  ah,  so  fervently,  that 
I  called  her  my  little  daughter.  I  thought 
of  my  first-born,  who  passed  away  half  a 
century  ago. 

*  *  *  *  *  * 


259 


Cpe  J3or&  Q^afftmore  (prcee 

BALTIMORE,  HD.,  U.  S.  A. 


' 


